May 31, 2012
I should have been in bed ages ago. But singing and dancing in a rowdy gospel performance for the past 2 hours does not make for bed-readiness. Nor does the afternoon spent at a graduation ceremony. So coming home now, at a late night hour, I find myself needing to write, to process, more than I need my sleep.
Today I watched 26 seniors graduate. I snapped their photos as they received their diplomas, nervously checking for the proper handshake pose and praying that there would be no camera malfunctions as I did so. There were not. And though I was distracted by photographer’s nerves for much of the ceremony, I still couldn’t help but cry a bit. Just a bit. It was an award that did it to me. One of the young men I had nominated for a scholarship was indeed the recipient of that award. And when he stood to accept his honor, I smiled through blurred vision and thought of happy memories I had of traveling with him and the other high schoolers back in the not-too-distant past of winter time.
Just another in those “this is why I’m here” sorts of days, I suppose. There is beauty here. Even here, there is beauty. And today I experienced an abundance of it: too much at once, it seemed.
Before the busy ceremony began, we walked through the gardens, awed by the loveliness of this setting. At one point I blurted out, “It’s so much green!,” and then commented that I supposed we must be green-deprived. Maybe so. But a little deprivation never hurt anyone. Not when beauty lurks just round the bend . . .