Graduation.
Brings back memories of hot, sticky gowns, tassels hanging in the eyes and caps covering perfectly coiffed hair. It brings back the smells of hundreds of sweaty bodies crammed into the gymnasium, and the sounds of restless feet in the bleachers that would rather be anywhere else but there. I remember a speech given by someone that was supposed to have played an important role in our high school education, but cannot remember a single word of it. And I remember being disappointed that the diploma I received did not have a diploma in it.
It was in the mail.
(Really, we should've been told that before the rioting began.)
I also remember the feeling of freedom.
Because I was pretty naive in thinking that life was only about completing 4 years of high school.
About 2 months later, reality sunk in. There were work hours to be kept, bills to pay, gas to buy and never enough time to sleep in or lay on the beach with my friends.
Of course, they weren't working on their tans either.
We were officially grown-ups. With that came adult responsibilities.
Welcome to adult-hood Dakota.
And remember, you asked for it.
For each of my graduating children, they get my version of a yearbook. It is their own scrapbook, documenting the momentous moments in their lives.
Mostly.
And then there are the reminders that my little boy has grown into a handsome young man.
Not to mention proof that he didn't spend the majority of his education on a boat or in the woods.
Climb high sweet son.
We are so proud of you.
Even if you don't realize that that ladder goes nowhere.
If it's alright with you, I'd like to linger on the memories of my little boy just a tad longer.
My Mister gave a very nice graduation commencement speech.
Then asked if I had anything to add.
All I could do was pick my lip.
It keeps my eyes from leaking.
Look out world.
He's free.
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