a wish

It seems early for the hubbub; it must be a trick of the weather. Blustery and gray says March to my brain, but next week is halfway through April. The Seniors are already taking their leave of school, wading deep into the Spring rivers of celebration, so quickly a flood. Class breakfast. Prom. Six Flags. Commencement. The lock-in.

"I'm so excited," says my teacher's aide as she spills out the modest bag of souvenirs and supplies that were delivered today: picture frame, tassel, announcements, even cap and gown--already. Childhood goal made concrete. Joy in her grin.

For weeks she hesitated, held back by duty, reluctant to dive in to this particular pool, this youthful finale. Suddenly, though, she has tickets to everything, a prom dress, anticipation to spare. Her mom's resurgent cancer will wait, or else it won't, but at least they'll have this. Life being lived. A chapter they've waited for.

All this Senior stuff is often a study in let-down, so manufactured, so temporary, but just this once, may it be exactly what she needs and has dreamed of.