At a recent graduation party, I met the cutest little kid. He told me he was 5 years old, going on 6 in a month. He proudly shared that the very next day was his last day in kindergarten. Then he would be “a big kid,” he said.

The party was for his older cousin, a son of our next-door neighbors who we watched come home as a newborn and grow into an adult. Now, as a full-of-life high school grad, he was charting his own course to trade school, training, employment and more. We also visited with his older sister who is one year away from college graduation. Her vision of next steps, new beginnings, and future plans was built around the niche she carved out in her choice of education and profession.

It’s the circle — or cycle — of life, defined and measured in the progression of youngsters through the education process from beginning to … whatever comes next.

It’s often true that when one door closes, another door opens. Sometimes we slam that closing door shut as we make choices that close off other possibilities. We hope for that other door to open, perhaps jiggle the knob, and are fairly certain of the next room we’ll step into.

So for all these grads, what comes next? When you’re 5 years old going on 6, first grade comes next. That door is very certain, very specific. Elementary school is followed by junior high, and then on to high school. But when high school is finished, the possibilities branch out. And when college is finished, the world is a myriad of possibilities. You can fly in almost any direction.

And after academics? The horizon explodes. Maybe marry. Maybe have a family. Maybe travel. Maybe grow a career. Maybe more education. Maybe volunteering.

The years tick by and those decisions we made back then, when they seemed to be endless not only in number but also in possibilities, solidify. Our lives become less malleable, more defined. Somewhere in the process, what we choose to do now chooses our future. If we marry, we commit to another person. If we have children, we become parents forever. If we grow a career, we shoulder being employed. If we travel, we are never again completely satisfied with where we are.

That excited anticipation of starting out on a new pathway solidifies into consequences of decisions made.

We try to explain this to our youngsters, how decisions they make chart their future, how today’s choices create their tomorrows. But it’s a concept we barely understand ourselves since we never see it until we look back.

Sometimes that realization makes us ask ourselves the question, “If I had it to do all over again, what would I change?” Some people blurt out the answer immediately, an answer usually borne out of a perceived wrong choice made somewhere “back there.” Sometimes those wrong choices are so full of regret that folks can’t move on. One of life’s biggest tragedies is watching someone wallow in a past regret like an animal caught in a trap. “Pull out! Move on!” we want to implore.

Some people answer the question with a curious smile and the answer, “Not a thing. I learned so much the way I did it. It doesn’t mean there weren’t challenges. There were. But pain causes change, and consequence is the greatest of all teachers.”

For all these young people charting their courses, no matter where they are on their journey, the greatest hope is not that they won’t have challenges, but that they’ll manage their way through them. That’s where the real growth happens.

Congratulations, graduates of school — or life. Whatever milestone you just passed, lean into the ones ahead.

D. Louise Brown lives in Layton. She writes a biweekly column for the Standard-Examiner.

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