That Miraculous Day

There was so much more to the day of Rose’s graduation than appeared in those pages of Seizure Mama and Rose. The various scenes play out in my mind clearly even though it was a decade ago. This was an event that we doubted would ever happen and here we all were, the whole family, celebrating this milestone together.

We walked Rose to her designated spot in the graduation line-up inside the building. Her dad, her brother, Rose and I were greeted by many friends and faculty. We peeked through the courtyard window to see the huge banana tree that Rose had given her beloved horticulture teacher. It was special to see that a stand-in for Rose had been present at the school while she was home-bound.

My husband had set up a tent at the back, right top of the stadium. Our four elderly parents needed the shade. Everyone had cold bottles of water. I could see the family and they could see me. At first, I was alone in the rows of folding chairs for the chorus. When they marched in, one of my former students sat beside me. She needed me there. She was in trouble again. Her skirt was too short. She would not be allowed on stage. I had to talk her down, just like old times in middle school.

The graduates marched in. Rose sat on the front row. I could see her every move. I could watch Rose. The family could watch me. All was well. We could relax and enjoy this miracle together.

My seat was at the base of the steps coming off the stage. I had my blogging camera. I got perfect photos of Rose’s friends and my former students. It was a parade of our past flowing by in a sea of green. My heart was full.

After the ceremony, we talked to dozens of dear friends. There were smiling, familiar faces everywhere. It felt so good to be surrounded be so much love after our isolation. I felt like the universe had opened up and welcomed us back in.

Treasure your good times. Take pictures. Talk about them. Write them down. Relish them. They are gold to the soul.

Mama Flower Roberts