Electricity filled the air outside the Chiles Center at the University of Portland. The air was warm. Families bunched together in a fat snaking line, clumping wherever there was shade. Graduates in royal purple robes and mortarboard posed for snaps with brothers, sisters, proud parents, grandparents. Bouquets in the crook of an arm. Balloons bobbing in the movement of the crowd. When the doors opened the throng pressed into the huge auditorium and slowly filled the seats to the rafters.
Graduation. Commencement. Not the end, but the beginning.
A friend texted that she spied the Mister and me from her seat across the vast hall. "You are beaming."
Pride, love, excitement, astonishment, the emotions pressing out beyond measure. My mind spinning pinwheels of memories. The proud preschooler leading the Halloween parade. A small boy stepping over the threshold into kindergarten, a watchful eye on daddy close by. Elementary school speeches (I Have a Dream), reports (state report on Indiana with the Indy 500 replica Dad and I stayed up all night to perfect), performances (the musical Annie). The best friends who formed his Battle of the Books team in fourth grade: the Quad Squad. The four are still besties today. Just taller now with facial hair, drivers' licenses and college dreams.
So many hours at soccer games, despairing over the impossibly close score and yet another crushing loss. Swimming lessons. Basketball practice. Choir performances. Piano lessons. Vacations at Sunriver. Camping at Silver Falls, Skiing at Bachelor. Family trips to Hawaii, Disneyland, Washington DC, California, Mexico. Last year's summer as a ZooTeen. Last fall's wobbly driving practice on the rural roads of Washington County.
College applications. The acceptance letters. The merit scholarships. The talent awards. And all culminating in this moment, this explosion of feeling, this pride in the man he has become.
The back door burst open and the graduates took their seats in formation. Two by two, feet bouncing with excitement, serenaded by Pomp and Circumstance. The crowd's zeal was palpable as iPhones and flashbulbs recorded the moment. Speeches were given. Awards noted. The moment serenaded by the Jazz Band's fizz, adorned with the Madrigal's song. And one by one they took their place on the stage to receive that diploma, to shake hands with the officials, and to bound down the steps changed, made perfect, set free.
To commence the first day of the rest of their lives.
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