How many ends can we face? The end of elementary school; the end of a fable; the end of a friendship; the end of a marriage; the end of a book; the end of an evening; the end of a song; the end of a project; the end of a journey; the end of a sunrise; the end of a bike ride; the end of a cigar; the end of a sunset; the end of a relationship; the end of a concert; the end of a line; the end of a story; the end of a caress; the end of a smile; the end of a blog post; the end of a bottle of ginger ale; the end of middle school.

Weren’t we all so broke by endings when we were young? Weren’t we so unable to discern the difference between “the end” and a conclusion?

Today, two hundred and fifty — if not more — eighth graders met another in countless endings. For some who’d lost a parent or a sibling, it paled in comparison. For others, it was a tearful afternoon. Those who don’t know will all learn soon enough.