Already in early winter, Pat tells me,
We need to set a date for our seniors’ graduation party.
Let’s call it, she says, MNO Graduate.
As in, our group (Moms’ Night Out) is graduating high school.
Our forum has run its course.
In other words, our historic role is complete.
Or, in a more optimistic tone, we’ve moved up a grade.
Outside, winds are howling and rain pours down,
And summer has never felt so far away.
But yours truly, the ever-disciplined girl,
Immediately picks a date and sends out a “Save the Date.”
And somehow, time flies,
And here I am, in the thick of party prep.
In fact, this past month, I’ve realized,
I’ve become a super-producer.
Our home, as if by magic,
Has turned into an event garden and wedding hall.
(Some even call me Sharon Bon,
A tribute to the glam halls Bon Bon or Bon Ton
From our dazzling youth, by the sea, remember?)
And so we celebrate a whole month,
A grand feast,
From one birthday to another,
From Shabbat dinner to Independence Day,
End-of-year ceremonies, awards,
An all-American senior bash,
Then the laid-back scouts’ party in khakis,
The pre-prom (non-alcoholic!) cocktail,
The prom itself (a little cringey, a little charming),
And the after-party.
Between the ceremonies, the dresses, the suits,
The ties, the heels, the hairdos, the flowers,
And our children,
Who, overnight, became adults.
As a confessed party lover,
I’m surprised to find,
It’s not the party that gets me this time.
It’s something else that stirs me,
Lifts me to a place I’ve never been.
Tears catch in my throat,
Slip out without warning.
I struggle to pinpoint the feeling,
Like I’m a character in a film,
And these familiar scenes from books and movies
Are now unfolding in my own backyard.
One day after the next, one event after another,
My excitement soars,
And my heart overflows with love—
And yes, with a good dose of kitsch.
I watch the kids,
Whom I first met eleven years ago
As first-graders at our local school,
And suddenly, here they are, young men and women.
My eyes, soft with affection,
Follow them with wonder and pride,
The baseball player who always had promise,
The young politician bound to go far,
The gifted actor, the dedicated runner,
The wildly creative girl
Who, even back in first grade,
Thought independently, and still does,
Bold and brilliant.
The polite boy, an old soul since childhood,
Likely always to be serious and wise.
The charismatic one, the heartthrob of the grade,
And among them, mine.
How he’s grown, how grounded and happy he is.
Knock on wood, he’s thriving.
I’m spellbound by them, by their bond,
By the natural ease of this group
That grew up and came of age together.
They’ve found a way to honor individuality,
And still hold on to true camaraderie.
From their confident voices and tall frames
Still peeks the child inside.
And though they share a common upbringing,
Each one has their own distinct spark.
Childhood memories bubble up,
Fragments of photos, holidays, traditions, trips,
Theirs, ours, ours as mothers, ours as families.
Moments and experiences mix in my head
With swelling emotion—
And another tear falls.
There’s something beautiful about this age,
A new beginning, curiosity, innocence,
Dreams, ambitions,
The hunger to take on the world.
I can’t take my eyes off them,
From their bursting youth, their magnetic beauty,
Their boundless energy,
And that magic,
That’s truly unmatched.
Amid the whirlwind of celebrations and rising emotions,
A question taps gently inside me,
What’s going on with me?
Why do I tear up at every little gesture?
How come ‘Fly Away Chick’, ‘Maybe Another Summer’, The Scouts’ Song,
Or even “I got a feeling that tonight’s gonna be a good night”
Send me into full-blown weep mode,
Right there in front of everyone?
What is this wave of emotion that’s taken over?
I know it’s not just the event,
Not even the accomplishment or looming goodbye,
It’s the sense of belonging that stirs something deep.
The realization that, even far from family and homeland,
We’ve managed to build a life here.
Despite the fears and uprooting,
Amazingly, we’ve reached this point, and we belong.
And one more thought hovers above me, like a warm sunbeam,
Its rays sparkling,
Blessed are we, to be here celebrating high school graduation.
(Despite A’s endless grumbles
That he no longer recognizes our house without guests and chaos…)
How important it is—to pause.
Truly pause.
To give thanks.
To celebrate.
To feel joy.
To rejoice.
A small victory.
A big one.
Oh, and credit for the photo design?
Goes to the brilliant, gifted designer,
A dear friend and beloved woman,
My One & Only Limi Z”L
* This was written a decade ago, when I sent my eldest son to college. Since then, I’ve lovingly shared it every year with high school graduates, congratulations! Mazal Tov!
