June

Baccalaureate, Commencement, Graduation.  Have you ever noticed how many times the speakers at these events refer to "not an ending, but a beginning?"  Both things are true.

The interesting thing to me is that the end of the long climb culminates at the top of a mountain.  And if you're looking out from a high place, you can usually catch sight of other pinnacles -- other high places.  So to look out from high school graduation, it's easy to see things like college graduation, marriage, children.  These things are not in focus because they're far away.  But they are in sight, because they're all high points that stick up and are visible from the top of the graduation mountain.

What we forget is that deep valley that lies between us and them.  There is no hopping across because the distance is too great.  The easy part lies straight ahead, and that's the downhill journey.  It's often an easy slide.

The hard part comes when we're faced with the uphill climb from the flat part between the two heights.  The edge of the valley, as it were.  We've gotten comfortable with things being relatively easy and achievable.

Now comes the hard part.

The nice thing is that this climb upward always culminates in reaching the pinnacle.  It might be slow, and it will most certainly be difficult.  But it will end.  And again, all those other high places will be in sight again.

Barbie graduates from high school this Friday.  Rose and Bug graduated last year, and JB will graduate next year.  I love the top of this particular mountain, because it is so filled with possibility.  I also (at this point in my life), am able to see the tops of so many other mountains, in every direction, where my girls will go and climb but I will not.  They aren't my mountains.  And that part makes me a bit sad -- I know it's the way of things, but knowing it and feeling it are distinctly different.

So I will throw parties and celebrate and smile and laugh and photograph as much as humanly possible.  When you're on this mountain, you see an entire range ahead.  Tired?  Oh, no -- not when you're young, still a teenager, and this is the very first mountain.  Full of excitement?  Definitely.  Bring it on.

I see this shining in my daughter's eyes and I am proud.  Give me the biggest kiss and hug possible, Little Girl, and off you go.

And here, you'll need a snack.  And some money.  And don't forget to call.  And drive carefully, there are crazies on the road out there.  Do you have your pillow?  Did you remember your important papers?  Here, give me another kiss.  Oh, wait, I forgot to give you that thing . . . where's the camera?

xoxoxox