By Greta Wolfsberger
A list to check for the end of all things known and the start of whatever is next.
College doesn’t finish with a ceremony. It ends slowly, then suddenly, with late nights and long lunches, borrowed jackets, and shared bottles of wine. These are things to do before Dallas has to let you go.
Most people talk about the 9.3-mile loop around White Rock Lake but never actually finish it. Go and do it. Come in the morning when the water is still and the ducks are on the edge of the lake. Bring coffee in a thermos, wear your oldest shoes, and don’t hurry. This is one of those walks that shouldn’t be rushed.
https://www.dallasparks.org/235/White-Rock-Lake
Spread a blanket on the Dallas Hall lawn and grab a pizza from Olivella’s pizza. Neapolitan. Wood-fired. Simple. Just lie there and Watch the dogs run. Let the afternoon unfold. Tell all your friends to come and have a deep conversation in the place your freshman year started.
These are the ones you will remember most. No cover charge, no shoes required, no reservations. Pop a bottle, or three, and stick around until the conversation takes you somewhere you didn’t expect. The apartment won’t always be yours. Use it while it is.
The Katy Trail is one of Dallas’s miracles, a 3.5-mile stretch winding through the middle of the city. Walk it in the evening, when the light turns to gold and everybody moves a little bit slower. Bring a friend. Talk about the future, or don’t. Either works.
sit down, linger over the chips, and order too much. Doce Mesas is a neighborhood favorite; the food is honest, and the margaritas live up to their reputation. Book a table, dress as you please, and stay for dessert. This is going to be a long dinner.
Not every night needs to mean something. Sometimes you just go to Barley House and get a table with your people and let the night be loud and easy, and unplanned. If you can, put something on the juke box. The goal is to have a good laugh.
The Katy Trail Ice House, a Dallas staple, asks nothing of you but to show up and stay a while, making it a great place to relax with picnic tables and string lights, free of drama.
Everyone makes a slideshow. Their favorite memories of the last four years: photos, inside jokes, screenshots, moments they almost forgot. Then you sit in a circle and present them to each other, one at a time. It will be funnier than you think and more emotional than you expect. So just do it. You only get to do this sort of thing once.
Something ends after midnight, and you find yourself in some brightly lit open space selling food at an absurd hour. It’s important you don’t skip.
The last two weeks are not a countdown. They’re an invitation to show up, to be present, to let the ordinary places mean something. Dallas will still be here. You won’t always be. Go do the things.
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