Chapter 5
The ceremony began.
The band played.
The graduates walked in.
When I passed the front row, Dad stood.
He clapped so hard the crushed daisies nearly fell from his lap.
My mother sat six rows behind him with Richard and Stephen.
She did not clap at first.
Then, maybe because people were watching, she lifted her hands.
Too late.
I had already seen.
When the principal gave his opening speech, he spoke about perseverance.
About families.
About the people who carry us when no one sees.
I looked at Dad.
His head was bowed.
He was crying quietly.
I had never seen him cry in public before.
Not when Mom left.
Not when he sold his truck.
Not when he broke his wrist and still showed up to my middle school recital with a cast under his jacket.
May you like
Today, he cried.
Maybe because for once, he had not been pushed to the back.
