Another graduation

 

Preschool. Kindergarten. Elementary school. Middle school. Oh, and the infant care transition when Truly turned two and moved from the room with the cribs to the room with the desks. 

Tiny desks for tiny children, some of whom would learn to write their names before they learned to use the potty. Her parents would have been proud to know that Truly achieved both skills before exiting preschool. Primarily because she otherwise would not have been allowed to enter kindergarten. They would have been thrilled to see the number of zeroes on her signing bonus check from the consulting company in Rose of Sharon.

But Truly’s business school commencement ceremony was just like her previous six, actually seven, educational rites of passage: despite engraved invitations sent to each of them every time, Truly’s grandparents sat in the front row, while her sperm and egg donors were nowhere to be found.

As she crossed the stage in yet another cap and gown and shook the hands of her doctorate level professors, Truly wondered if any of them had gotten their PhDs just for one last shot to have their parents show up at graduation.