Teachers, administrators, families, underclassmen, and my cherished classmates, welcome to this landmark of a moment. First, I’d like to give a reminder. Speeches and ceremonies tend to feel so minute in the scheme of our lives, so forgettable in the vastness of time. During events like these, our minds and bodies always long to be elsewhere. But as we graduate today, let’s try for a while not to worry about memories or plans, and instead to be present, to be awake to the great significance of now. We’ve made it to the end of an era, and this celebration marks the beginning of an immense change in all of our lives. So, catch yourself before it’s too late; slow down, take it in, and don’t allow your consciousness to sleep or speed through this sacred metamorphosis. Be mindful, and make this moment last.

I’m sure books are the last things you want to hear about today, but when I reflect on the past four years, I can’t help imagining them as episodes in an epic novel, the collective, autobiographical origin story of a class of fascinating characters. In the way a novel’s yet unwritten pages give the author’s mind freedom to explore and map the depths of fantasy worlds, high school has provided us with hundreds of blank, unmarked days on which to imprint our tales, develop our character traits, and shape our arcs. And I think our story is worth telling and retelling; at least I know it is one I will keep picking up for the rest of my life. What stays with us most from the books we read, and what I expect will remain in our thoughts long after this graduation ceremony, are the characters, the archetypes we have encountered along the way, around which our own personal folklore is molded. You, my classmates, are that body of heroes, jesters, sages, and outlaws to which I will forever be alluding. You will always tint the lens through which I view the world and determine the way I relate to its inhabitants.

As I meet new people throughout life, I’m sure I will think of their qualities in comparison to yours. I don’t think I will ever meet someone whose poetic voice equals Jane’s, or whose sassy swagger matches Mason’s, but when I encounter new characters down the road, they might remind me of certain prototypical characteristics among our ranks, like the Kendallian sense of style or the Malizian sense of humor. My future colleagues and friends might possess shadows of Arianna’s sense of purpose or a hint of Faith’s sense of rhythm, though their traits will never be completely like yours. In the same way the character Mentor symbolized what he was to Odysseus so perfectly that his name became a synonym for leader, role model, and teacher, and in the same way Caesar has translated into Kaiser and czar to mean “ruler,” I expect that if we give it a century or so, we will find “McTigue” in the dictionary as “a humble genius,” and “Salkin” defined as “a catalyst for political reform.” We might also hear the word “Dushin” used in art history classes to refer to eye-catching, avant-garde photos, or some not-yet-invented culinary masterpiece termed “the D’Arena.” “Hamou” will surely catch our ear someday on the news, we will see “Craven” in bold font on a magazine cover, and “Rachael Larson, epidemiologist” will appear at the bottom of the frame during a documentary.

These are my predictions, but no matter whether the world remembers your names, I know we will remember each other’s. As we meet new people through the years, we will certainly rate their kindness on a scale from zero to Audrey Berry, and we will hope their energy and spirit compare with those of a Cann or a Caulkins. It’s not what you have done that we will remember, but what you have meant. It is that unexpected conversation, that much needed smile, that interesting manner of speaking, that joke you told at the perfect time. Someday we might even pass each other’s names down to the next generation, as our children beg to hear about our childhoods, and we will be the archetypes that initiate a second race of minds into storytelling.

As we come upon the last paragraphs of the novel that has been high school, as we prepare to write our next fantasy into being, and even when our anthology of legends and tales winds to an end, you will be the classic archetypes I think back upon, the ones who first sculpted my storytelling mind. It has been a privilege to discover myself alongside you, and I couldn’t have asked for a better set of characters and parables on which to found my identity and my perspective. After today, our pages are used up, and our book is written; and I’d argue that the story we created together is among the farthest fetched tales ever told.

(Trevor Wells is the Class President of Lyme-Old Lyme High School.)