Those of you who have been reading my blog for awhile know that my least favorite time of year isn’t any of the sweltering Arizona days that linger for months somewhere between 115 degrees and an all out inferno. No, although my dislike for the summer months is right up there with my dislike of war, famine, and ticks. (Or vampire spiders, as I call them). My least favorite time of the year is graduation.
It all started nine years ago when my oldest daughter graduated. Yes, I was happy for her. (Top five percent of her class and going to her first choice of universities) But the thing is, she moved out and only came back for short visits. It was like losing my best friend. It was like losing a chunk of my heart. I saw no reason to celebrate the event with cakes, or balloons, or anything else. Would you buy a special cake if you had a lung removed? No, no you wouldn’t because sane people don’t celebrate sad events.
Ever since then, I’ve had a severe loathing for graduation decorations and graduation time in general. I get sad and panicky even when I don’t have another child graduating–which didn’t happen again until three years ago when my oldest son graduated. I cried for a day–and he was staying home to go to community college.
So now it’s graduation time again. This is a big one. My twins are graduating. I have done a good job pretending it won’t happen. Every time I go to a store, I cover my eyes and walk through the aisles, shouting loudly, “La la la! I can’t see you! You don’t exist!”
(You can see my other blogs–and the cakes I think should be made for graduation–at the links below.)
My son recently did a comic strip for his school newspaper on graduation. I’m glad to see I’ve distilled a healthy dislike for the event.