There’s a young woman graduating from High School tonight.
There are many young women graduating, actually, and many
young men as well. But there’s this one that I’m particularly fond of.
Tonight she’ll be just one more of hundreds of capped and
gowned seniors starting a new chapter of life. She’ll be just one face in the
crowd, for most of the crowd.
For me, she will be it. The only one. The singular high
school graduate.
I was one of the very first people to see her face, to gaze
into her eyes.
I held her in one arm with no trouble at all.
I saw the very first smile she ever smiled.
I wiped her chin, changed her diaper, put band-aids on her
knees.
I carried her on my shoulders. I can still feel her weight
there, her chin resting on my head.
I saw her crawl, then walk, then dance.
I took her to the art museum on “d” days. We got in trouble
once because I was carrying her on my shoulders and that made the guard
nervous, like I was going to drop her into a work of art.
I read chapter books to her at bedtime.
I ran beside her bicycle as she figured out how to balance, watched
her pedal off on her own.
I heard her say, “If there are kids who need help … and we
can help them … then we probably should,” and it changed my life.
I saw her step onto a stage and become
someone else. Golde, Leisl, Cinderella, Patsy. Scrub. Miss. She sparkles on
stage, pure brilliance.
I tried to teach her how to play piano, with moderate
success.
I accompanied her as she sang.
I told her, every morning, “Be a peacemaker today!”
I asked her, every night, “Who’s my girl?”
I have seen her angry and I have yelled at her, too.
I have told her the most hilarious jokes in history.
I watched her sing, in her high school choir, and saw an
artist at work.
I have watched her try to keep things calm, no drama,
relaxed. And I know how it hurts her when that doesn’t work.
I know that she gets really anxious about trying new things,
but she tries them anyway because she is so incredibly brave. And strong. And
smart.
And after tonight, she’s going to be trying a really, really
big new thing. It’s newer and bigger than anything she’s tried so far. And she
is going to be amazing.
Life happens in seasons. Old seasons fade; new seasons
emerge. “Wind’s in the east, there’s a mist coming in, like something is
brewin, about to begin.” We do well to notice the transition times, to mark
them, to absorb every moment.
So there’s a young woman graduating from High School tonight. She’s my girl. She is Corneille Marie Bryan, and she is ready for what’s next.
2 comments:
She is beautiful and a blessing. Have a wonderful night.
Beautiful thoughts and observations
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