Mother! Mother!
Look at me!
I’m graduating!
Can’t you see?
Yes my son, I see you dressed in a long white robe, mortar board, tassel and all. And I see more. As I sit here at the Graduation Exercises - with all outward appearances, calm - and all inward feelings, churning - I remember the day you were born. On each of your birthdays, on each of your special days, I always remember the day you were born. That day, the sun shone brightly and I beamed equally bright - excited to meet you. Before birth, you were an active babe, kicking all of the time. At birth, you were in a hurry to get here. Then, I held you, so small, so fragile, nestled in one arm. I petted your baby fine hair; I traced your tiny features with my finger. I counted all the toes on your feet. And, with anxiety and pride, I listened to your lusty cry.
Mother! Mother!
Look at me!
I’m graduating!
Can’t you see?
Yes, I see you sitting with your class; you look so poised, so manly. And I see you as you hesitantly, defiantly take your first step. I remember your cutting that first tooth. And the first one you lost. I hear your first word. Oh, how it tugged at my hear when you first called “Mama.” Did you know that mothers date other events by such momentous occasions as these?
Mother! Mother!
Look at me!
I’m graduating!
Can’t you see?
Yes, I see your impatience as you fidget during the speeches. You have always lacked in patience. I remember that if you had been more patient as a boy, you wouldn’t have fallen out a tree and broken your arm. And many of the countless bruises and cuts and bumps and bangs could have been prevented if you hadn’t rushed so to meet life head. On. And I remember when you were so sick. I sat by your bed and it seemed forever before your fever dropped. You were so still - my little one who was always so very active - so very still.
Mother! Mother!
Look at me!
I’m graduating!
Can’t you see?
Yes, my son, I see you on this last evening of 12 years of school and kindergarten, too. Did you know that you wore matching blue shorts and a blue shirt that first day you went to kindergarten? You were so little. And, the first day of school - you didn’t want me to go with you. It was in the third grade that you lost your last babyish ways and became just - boy. When you started junior high, you looked so small. And before that first year there was over, you had grown six inches taller. That was right after I replenished your wardrobe. Literally, you were too big for your britches. Then in high school, do you know how much it hurt me when you nicked your face that first time you shave?
Mother! Mother!
Look at me!
I’m graduating!
Can’t you see?
Yes, I see you stand anxious to step forward to receive your diploma. You’ve always been ready to go. How many times as a baby, you said, “Go, bye-bye.” At three, with your first set of wheels, a red tricycle, you traveled too far from home and we had to ground you. I thought you would never learn to ride you bicycle. But you were determined. Then it was a car and a driver’s license. How I worried each time you took the car. How I came to depend on you to run errands for me. Did you know that mothers suffered such mixed emotions?
Mother! Mother!
Look at me!
I’m graduating!
Can’t you see?
Yes, my son, you are next in line. Smile when they snap your picture as you accept you diploma. Congratulations, my son. I’m proud of your accomplishments and of the man that you are becoming. My eyes are full of tears. It is in the remembering that makes mothers cry on these important occasions. I will add today to my repertoire of memories.
Mother! Mother!
Look at me!
I’ve graduated!
Did you see?
1972
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