Graduation (Grass)

You stand. In two straight lines. Supposedly straight lines. Kevin; as always, is not listening. Riding around on some teacher's wheely chair. Nobody is sure where he got it. My head hurts, simply due to the fact of nerves, which I am hoping everyone else around me feels too. Everyone is sweating, trying not to ruin makeup and Jordan; of course, is attempting to keep the tassel from getting stuck on her eyelashes. The doors open and we move forward about five steps. Then we stop. Everyone's heart had been racing so fast. I almost felt as if I couldn't stand. Then people start shouting. "We're moving!" And everyone screams and claps. Then we walk through the doors of Harwood, for the last time as students. The hot sun glares down, but its still cooler than standing inside a cramped hallway for 45 minutes in line. People line the walking space and call out to graduates hoping they will look their way for a better shot. We march through the field and into the tent. People are everywhere and flashes blind you. Unsure if someone was just taking that picture of you, or someone else, you smile. Soon we sit down. My feet are killing me, thanks to my high heeled red shoes I have yet to break into. Mrs. Atwood starts talking to introduce the mornings graduation. And to go on about all the things we have achieved. I try to cross my legs to make my aching feet more comfortable, but fail. So I take off my shoes and gently rest my feet in the grass. And I feel okay. True, seeing on the bathroom divider "Don't worry, be happy. :)" was nice, but something about the grass in between my toes. The familiarness. The feeling we are all connected here at this place, by this grass. And everything will be okay. And I slightly revel in the idea that I am breaking a rule. A, you need to always wear shoes, rule. But sometimes you need to break rules, especially stupid ones. I wiggle my toes in the grass for reassurance, and I realize how good it is that there is grass. Written 6/24/12