graduation

My little brothers graduated from high school this month. It was a little surreal. I sat on the hillside above the bandshell in Ashland's Lithia Park, watching my brothers in their red gowns graduate from my high school. Seventeen years later. Half my lifetime ago I took that same joyful walk down the path by the fountain, to take my seat for one of life's crystalline moments. Watching my brothers in that moment I was moved for many reasons, not just for my own nostalgia. My brothers overcame a lot during the past four years to get to this place, and to say I'm proud of them doesn't quite do justice to the feeling.

My family spent the weekend all together in our hometown. We brought our grandma down from Eugene, and Shep came too. We celebrated with my brothers, spent time with their girlfriends, saw family friends, and went on walks and rides in Nathan's 1956 jeep. We went out for ice cream, and just hung out together.

And then it was done. They threw their hats in the air, gave us all hugs, and walked off with their friends to stay up all night at the Senior party.

The day afterwards we went to Standing Stone for dinner because our mom used to love to sit there on the patio some weekday afternoons with her boys, my brothers. She would drink a pint of dark beer and they would eat french fries. We made a toast in her name, raising our glasses to her, and how proud she too would be of these sweet, smart boys who we have collectively raised.