The Last Cap and Gown

The Last Cap and Gown

It’s funny, I don’t remember blinking. I do, however, remember 20-some-odd years ago, when the kids were mere munchkins, the people who were the age that I am now saying, “Enjoy these years, your kids will be grown in the blink of an eye.”
So, here it is, a short blink later, and my youngest, Kelly, is graduating from college.

You’ll forgive me I hope for this little bragging session, this little obituary to childhood, this sentimental journey. I know that my kids are no more special than yours to anybody but me. I’m sure your kids are great, too. It’s just that I have this public outlet in which to reconcile my growing old, and by George, I’m going to use it. My hope is that you will read something here that will make you realize how precious your children are to you, and that you will give them an extra hug today, or call them just to say I love you.

Kelly was a funny little girl. Always in the shadow of older sister Jenny, she had a lot to live up to. Jenny was (or thought she was) always in charge, which in the long run probably made Kelly into a stronger person than she might have been otherwise. To this day, nobody but nobody runs over Kelly.

Some of my favorite memories:
When Kelly was three, she had a very busy schedule, which required her to be in a different location every day. Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, she went to a private babysitter. Tuesdays and Thursdays she went to Mother’s Day Out. Saturdays she went with me to work at the sporting goods store that I owned at the time, and Sundays she went to church. It’s funny how a three year old can lay on the guilt to a working mom. I’ll never forget waking her one morning. She opened those big blue eyes, with her little chipmunk cheeks red from sleep and her arms tight around Daniel, the Cabbage Patch Doll and said with a huge sigh, “Where me haver ta go today, Mama?”

I remember her singing her own little song through her new microphone and amp on Christmas morning, “Papaw…papaw…Pap-a-a-a-aw!”

Or this one, about age 7: Always getting her words mixed up, she came in to the kitchen one day while I was pouring marinade over some chicken breasts, and exclaimed, “Oh Brother! Marijuana Chicken again?”

I’ve always been perhaps an overly proud mother. I cried at the PTO meetings when she sang on the stage, or signed a song in sign language. I got that little flutter in my stomach when she left for her first prom all dressed up and gorgeous, suddenly a young woman. And, as she rode her dressage tests on Big Red, the horse she trained herself, I stood and wept from the sheer beauty of this poetry on horseback.
There are others who have wept with me over the years. I call them the “other mothers”. Margaret Martin, her riding coach and my dear friend, who has had as much or more influence on Kelly as I have, and loves Kelly probably as much as I do; Lisa Sayle, who was her other mother all those years when I was working, and Jenny, her sister, who was probably even more protective of her than me.

As much as I’d like to take the credit for how Kelly turned out, I didn’t do it alone. In addition to the “other mothers” there have been the two great men in her life, her step-dad, Greg, and her dad, Odell. Both of them have been with her every step of the way; providing love, moral support and guidance (not to mention money and all the horse shows she had to be hauled to).
Oh yes, I’m proud of who she has become. Dean’s list almost every semester, while working two jobs and training two horses, a gourmet cook, a self-driven achiever, a kind heart, and already employed with a great company before she even has her diploma in her hand.

Suddenly, in the blink of an eye, instead of talking about what Daniel the Cabbage Patch wants for breakfast, we’re talking about 401k’s and mutual funds. We’re talking about furniture for her new home and medical plans. And all the while I’m thinking, “Oh Kelly, where you haver ta go today?” and wondering will she have Marijuana Chicken for supper.

I’m proud of you, Kelly Bear, and I love you more than words can say.

(Originally published at Kelly's college graduation, May, 2008)