Graduation

The two awakened without the need of an alarm and spoke only of joyful things over coffee. “Access to the graduation seats begins in an hour,” she reminded her husband, so they dressed quickly and were among the first to stake out their claim in the college courtyard. Determined to sit close, they didn’t want to miss a moment. Their third-row venue was nearly perfect.

As they sat beside each other, waiting for the ceremony to begin, they reminisced about their child’s life, the day he was born during a horrific storm, how the teachers were drawn to him even in pre-school, his taking forever to learn how to ride a bike, his first date, and the day the letter of acceptance arrived from his first-choice college. It all led to this moment, and, in a rare moment of visible affection, he reached for his wife’s hand and squeezed. When the music swelled, and the faculty and graduates began processing, they were the first to rise.

It was only a matter of seconds before they were both in tears. “This is it, the moment we’ve been waiting for,” they thought. “Look at our baby,” they wanted to shout, but refrained for fear of embarrassing their son. Not that anyone was interested in their boy. They had children and concerns of their own. The people sitting behind them talked throughout the service about the dinner the night before and how they didn’t sleep well. Two rows over, all five people were looking at their phones. Some, were catching up on the score from last night’s game, others texting, and one keeping up with the Kardashians. Oblivious to the events on the stage, they were counting the minutes before they could leave. Fortunately, there were other parents as proud and as weepy as they, and, together, they tried to celebrate the moment by clapping and cheering as loudly as they could, if only to drown out those who couldn’t have cared less.

“For God’s sake,” the husband sighed. “Exactly,” replied his wife. “Now we know how God feels every Sunday.”