Thursday, June 4, 2015
Here are the graduates marching in:
The speeches were actually quite lovely, kind of personal at points and special. The theme across them all of course, was gratitude for their mentors and encouragement to the graduates to listen to their own hearts and pursue their own interests and dreams--to be themselves at the same time contributing and doing good in the world.
Okay, I'm in.
Those are fine goals.
Ann was there, r.t.'s mom. She's his National Honor Society mentor and she climbed up in the bleachers and sat beside me and I was so glad to be sandwiched between her and Jay and Tim and Julia.
She had her camera ready to take video as James' name was read.
HER MEMORY CARD WAS FULL.
She groaned in aggravation, but did not curse, not out loud anyway.
I'm not a big cusser either, but at moments like that, the things that flash through my mind are unspeakable anyway.
Son of a gun.
But that's okay. We were there. We heard his very senatorial name: James Evan.
People just keep on growing up and leaving this enormous old house, and having their own lives.
This place used to feel packed to the gills with people and energy and everyone's personalities and potential and moods zinging all around.
(Plus furniture and dishes and extra long sheets, and toddler messes and a baby swing, all at the same time.)
John and Dan and I were talking about this tonight. They were the first ones to spring on out of here. But to be the last stragglers still at home?
That's a weird thing to consider.
Lydia's feeling it acutely, and Tim and Julia are frowning a lot.
It's all good though. This was the plan the whole time, that kids would grow up.
Shortly they will too, and we will all adjust.
Into the future, Jimmy. Life is good.
We all love you so very, very much.
love, MOM and DAD and EVERYBODY