The cap and gown arrived today. Red gown, matching mortarboard, red and gold tassel with a shiny 15 attached. Identical to his brother’s except for the 15. In seventy short days, I will read his name announcing his successful completion of the required high school credits and proudly watch him cross the stage (probably right after I step out to interrupt his progress to give him a great big hug).
Yesterday he brought home his senior year baseball cap. He missed his entire junior season, spring and summer, after tearing his ACL and meniscus during a PE game of townball. Losing that season, baseball is his only sport, was the hardest setback he had ever had to face. After a few very sad days that broke this mother’s heart, he put on his stoic face and attended every practice and every game. And he earned his varsity letter. Now, it’s his last season. Ever.
In thirty-six hours THE letter that we’ve been waiting for will be here. And then he will make a final college decision–local or 160 miles away. I have a preference, but I know that I have to find a way to let him make his own decision.
The cap and gown should signify the end, and yet all the important decisions will be made before the cap and gown are worn, and then, and then, everything starts anew.