Much Ado About Graduation

Much Ado about Graduation

I didn’t care about renting the gown,
which I’d have to press when I was so busy packing to leave.
I didn’t care which side the cap’s tassel was supposed to hang on.
(Move the veil to kiss the bride and you’re married.
Move the tassel to the other side and you’ve matriculated?)
I didn’t care about standing in long lines in the hot Georgia sun,
Waiting for my time to climb the stairs and cross the stage.
I didn’t care if I had the diploma in my hand, so long as it was in the mail.
It wasn’t West Point. Why throw our hats in the air?
I wanted just to be done with school, to strip my dormitory room and
fill my car with boxes and be on the road,
and be able to write BA from UGA on my resume.
No falderal and fiddle-de-de, just get on with life, begin a new chapter.

But it didn’t happen that way.
When I was still only half packed, my mother was threatening me
within an inch of both our patience
To press the gown and get to the ceremony on time,
I put up with the heat and the hassle to please her.
I climbed the stairs and crossed the stage and smiled, shook hands,
Took my diploma, filed back to my seat for hours' more sitting in the sun.
It was a joyful day for Mother, a ceremony she never got to be in herself.
I’d robbed her of my high school graduation,
So that day she got her way. She was proud.