The note spoke of broken dreams and heartbreak. Of frustration, failure and insufficiencies. It came out of nowhere and yet it was all too familiar. It ended up being an apology for not finishing a gift that was planned. A gift meant for my high school graduation. Instead a check and a line begging for forgiveness.
I had every intention to write about how my family is crazy, or how i'm not the favorite grandchild, but I can't make it right. It sounds as if i'm a three year old complaining about only getting one cookie instead of two. So instead imagine gloriously crafted lines and fill in the blanks leading up to this...
So this time around, four years later, the family that I am celebrating with isn't the usual grandparent's, aunts, uncles and cousins. Yes they will be proud, but the people I want to be with, are the ones that don't need an invitation to know I'm graduating. They are the ones who know what is going on in my life and want to be an integral part of it. They are a group of Asian middle school girls, a seven year old with an all encompassing smile and big round grey eyes, a woman who does wonders with my ignored hair, a tall hippie friend planning on studying economics who helps me get into trouble, my second momma who knows her plumbing and salad dressing, the residents of 920 Porter, a cheering squad of people with slow southern drawls and big open hearts, and the friends who have walked these past four years with me up on the hill.
That, to me, is family.
And that is sufficient.