The Graduation

If someone would have told me five years ago that Ken would be bringing a date to our child's elementary school graduation ceremony, I would not have believed them.

It was a very big week at work for me, so i hadn't made many plans for J's sixth grade graduation other than to be there on time. It was on a Wednesday evening in late May, a day which the boys are normally with their father. That made it easy for me to just show up, straight from work, after a challenging day of technical processes that just didn't work right. It was as if the mercury retrograde really did effect these things.

The graduation started promptly at 6:30 pm and I of course arrived at 6:35 pm. The problem with that isn't so much that you missed the beginning, it's that everyone is already seated and aware of your presence.

Once, me and Traci went down to the Taft Theatre to see Cats, and Roger Grooms, whom is a local media critic, was sitting in our third row, center, seats. As we stood in the aisle, trying to make him get out of our seats, the show started. If you've seen Cats, you know that it starts with the cats entering for all entrances in the theater, through the audience, to the stage. Therefore, Traci and I became part of the show, and the entire audience was acutely aware of our existence, and that's just ugly. I hate Roger Grooms.

Then there was the time during the Nutcracker at Music Hall that I had to get up in the middle of "The Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairies", muttering 'excuse me, excuse me' from our second row seats because if I held it any longer I was going to faint. I hate pre-show champagne. I could go on, but I think you get my phobia.

Anyqueenoftangent, I'm very sensitive about walking into anywhere late. As soon as I got into the gym, where the ceremony was held, I saw that there was nowhere to sit, neither in the bleachers or on the floor. Next, I noticed that Ken was sitting with one of the J's up in the bleachers, along with the live in girlfriend, her daughters, who are the same age as the two J's, along with Kens parents, and a woman that looked suspiciously like Ken's girlfriends mom (the mom being a part I may have created in my head). They were like the Brady Brunch, and there I was, old and worn out, with bad feet and nowhere to sit.

I tried to find a place to stand on the floor inconspicuously, and it just wasn't happening. It seemed like (granted, it may have all been in my head which is nine-tenths of reality as far as I'm concerned) their eyes were on me for the next hour. I felt like a bug in a pink skirt.

I was so self-conscious that when they called J's name I tried to hoot and holler for him, which is just what I do at these things, and it came out sounding just like the the scream that killed Howard Dean's run for the presidency. No, it was worse than Howard Dean, it was horrendous!

Then, I'm standing there, and I get to thinking about how J had just been in kindergarten yesterday and our hopes and dreams where all so different then, but then again, maybe they hadn't changed so much after all. These thoughts, so romantic and simple, are often not the best things for me to ponder at such events as this, and, oh lord, there came the tears, and after a minute, they were too many for my bare hands to absorb. I said "girl, you've got to breath". and pulled myself together.

Then it was over and the graduates came walking down the aisle in the center of the gym, right where I was standing. When J saw me, he lit up. I hugged him as long and as tight as you can an eleven year old boy in front of his peers.

I took his boudinar for my keep sake box, hugged him again, and told him that I was so proud of him, and that I was going to get out of there and let him be with his dad. Then, before I boo-hoo'd some more, I slipped out through a back door that couldn't have been placed in a more dramatically strategic location if I had planned it, into the night, and in my head I was Mildred Pearce.

Sometimes,things are so painful, I'm in awe of my ability to stomach it, and it almost knocks the wind out of me. Then I spend a week or two looking for the humor, and, damn, I always find it. So, there you have it.