CONVOCATION

 My neighbour told me to bring Kleenex. I told myself that I would be grateful that she showed up everyday and was nice to people. I didn’t expect my tears to come after a silent ride home from the venue where 300 kids received their graduation diplomas today.

I was up late last night, participating in the last session of a wellness course. I didn’t have a lot of time to sleep, but I had six hours. Unfortunately my cat has gotten the taste of being outdoors, and the birds start being interesting around 4 am, so even that was interrupted. 

I wore a dress to work, but didn’t get a chance to shower because I started the dishwasher that I had forgotten to run last night, only to discover that a speed wash takes a solid 30 minutes, and I wasn’t going to have time. I rushed to work, forgetting my wallet the first time I left for the train, but with my Princess Pirate’s lunch and my cat’s litter and food supply replenished.

I rushed from work, getting the comment that I was leaving already at 5:01, because that wouldn’t be okay, unless it was my daughter’s convocation. 

I made it just in the nick of time to catch the right train, but still no time to shower. I chatted with two sets of neighbours who were out. I can’t talk long. I’m excited! It’s my daughter’s convocation today! 

I hydrate and find a half an avocado to eat. My neighbour sent over flowers and a gift card for her, and then I realized that she had given her dad and Nan tickets, but she had forgotten to give me mine.

I found it in her belongings, thankfully, and I was on  my way. Parking was full, so I parked further away and walked in. There was no one collecting tickets anymore, and apparently no seats due to a mistake in counting chairs. I looked for one spare seat, which I find, gratefully, since I knew her dad and Nan won’t bother saving me one. I saw her two closest friends who waved at me. I waved back, happy. I would figure out where she was sitting when her name was called.

I film her group making their way to the stage, and the proud moment that she walks across the stage. No one is taking pictures with the principal and I am too far away for a good photo. No matter. She toughed it out in IB, and it’s a triumph. I am so tired. If I lay down here, I would fall asleep in a heartbeat. My head aches and I wish I had more to eat. The ceremony started late and it’s a three hour program.

In the end, there is chaos! I see her friends together, but can’t find her. It’s full, and families are reconnecting everywhere. I can’t see her, but I start weaving around the aisles looking for her. Then I see her, and wave but she doesn’t see me. I chase after her, but I lose her again. There she is! Rebecca! 

She sees me, and she scowls. I open my arms to hug her and she punches them away, gritting her teeth. I don’t want a hug, she says. I step back and start scanning for her friends. I know she wants photos with them before they have to give back their gowns. I ask to take a picture with the stage in the back ground. Already my mom, and my neighbour, and a classmate’s mom want a picture. She is severe and beautiful, not smiling, as a take the only photo I might have to remember this momentous night by.  She asks for my phone, taking it before waiting for permission. Don’t follow me, she says, marching away. 

I find her friend but I have no idea where she is. I am the patsy, waiting for her to return, not even sure if I am the one she will accept to take home. I have work to do. One more night on the wellness platform before it expires. If she isn’t coming home with me, I would leave now. I find her nan, and she has found her dad. We go to where they are standing. She’s giving him a hug, and smiling now. They ham it up, pretending to replicate a photo when he graduated when she was younger. Her nan offers to take a picture of me with her. I am grateful. I return the favour.

She finds her friend, and takes off. I chat with her parents, and try and enjoy the event. She keeps coming back, and taking off. They had been kind enough to bring her. Now they want to go, but she and her friend keep moving away. They wait with me uncomfortably, since it’s clear that they are just messing with us now. We head towards them, but they move further away. Finally, I clarify that she is coming home with me. 

We move out of the building, and she is changing her shoes. The family that brought her are waiting, and she doesn’t say anything gracious, like thank you or good night, or attempt to be brief. She keeps dumping things in my bag like I am at her bidding, and after a half dozen condescending uses, I give her a look, and she gives a slightly sarcastic please.

We leave and I say goodbye to her friend and family, but she is off, pretending that I am not part of this. Forgetting to say thanks to the kind people who took her early to the campus and waited until it started because I couldn’t and so that her dad didn’t have to.  She walks to the left, leaving me far behind, but my car is nowhere near where she is going. I slow down and look to see if she sees me. She is coming my way again, but distainfully walks ahead, again blindly.

I ask her to stop. What is this game she is playing? You are my only daughter and this is your only high school convocation, and you treat me like this? I thought I would cry for pride, but I find myself crying in shame. 

On this night, my daughter graduated from high school, and she wouldn’t have even noticed if I wasn’t there.