GRADUATION DAY

My daughter graduated from high school last week.  We weren’t sure she was going to graduate until the very last day of school, so no invitations were sent out and a lot of stressful scrambling took place trying to lasso relatives.  Most kids take for granted they are graduating but for Krista this was an extra special event because she struggled so hard to make it happen.  Her dad and I had feared the worst.  If she didn’t graduate she would be banned from sharing this important ceremony with her friends.  But she made it.  And we were all there, even her beloved relatives from out of town.

The last time I attended a graduation ceremony was for my nephew 10 years earlier in this same school.  My daughter was 8 and my son was 7 at the time.  My sister also had a 7 year old son and a 2 year old daughter.  We sat high up in the bleachers admonishing our younger ones to sit still and act solemnly (Ha!) during the ceremony.  Now my beautiful daughter is an adult (18), sitting in the rows of chairs waiting to be called to receive her diploma.  Our young sons are now big strapping, handsome teenage boys and the baby girl is a lovely young lady.  I kept putting one foot in the time portal, seeing my kids as they were back then, all cute and innocent, and coming back into the present to see these tall beings on their way to adulthood. 

I don’t remember it being this crowded last time.  (Population explosion?)  The parking lot was full 45 minutes before the start of the event and we were forced to scrounge for parking spots way, way up the street.  Then there was a huge line to wait in that wrapped all the way around the parking lot.  When we finally got inside the gates, we discovered there was nowhere left to sit.  The fence in front of us was covered with graduation balloon bouquets.  At first we stood at the fence, batting balloons out of our faces, trying to look for Krista.  Then we found a different area of fence with no balloons and, although we had to stand, had a clear view of the field of chairs and giddy teenagers.  Poignant speeches were made and one by one each name was called and students lined up to climb the stage stairs and accept their diplomas.  What a thrill to see Krista’s beaming face as she walked to the stage.  After everyone’s name was called, they were instructed to turn their tassels to the left side and then everyone threw their hats high into the air, a symbolic gesture as proof they were now graduates.  Krista ran to greet us at the fence for copious hugs, kisses and picture taking.  She was ecstatic to see her cousins, aunt and uncle.  The cousins jumped the fence and took turns taking pictures together.  Then Krista disappeared for a while, swallowed up in her group of joyous friends.  Our relatives had to leave; it was still a school night for them, and we searched the sea of young faces for our daughter.  Of course this was a once in a lifetime, monumental occasion, one she should be allowed to relish without hurry, but we were late for dinner reservations and her dad was worried about his car getting towed.  This explains his odd behavior.  I watched from the sidelines in amused horror as Mike ran frantically through the field, hands waving, looking like a Tasmanian devil as he yelled, “KRISTA!  KRISTA!” at the top of his lungs.  Of course she was mortified.

We took her to our favorite restaurant, The Brigantine, and showered her with graduation balloons, flowers and cards.  It was late, we were starving and exhausted, and elated.  Also relieved.  Very, very relieved. 

Happy Graduation Day, Sweetheart.