My daughter, MCP, graduated from high school today. I am enormously proud of her for many reasons. Although she doesn’t always like doing the actually school assignments and taking tests, she is a brilliant learner who is completely capable of turning in excellent, insightful coursework. She is an especially gifted writer. Although she often tries to get us to write her essays for her, when she finishes a paper, I love to read what she has written. It is usually interesting, discerning, and written in a way that makes reading it enjoyable. She has done well in school, earning good grades, and completing many college classes. In addition, while attending high school she worked, volunteered in an elementary classroom, and was involved in serving the poor in her town, in San Francisco’s Tenderloin, and in Honduras. She has a kind and compassionate heart, and is loved by children and adults. I admire all she has accomplished so far with her young life.
With every stage MCP has gone through I’ve felt happy that she’s achieved the milestone, but also a little wistful, knowing that she is my last. I remember taking the crib down, and realizing I wouldn’t be putting it back up again. I was happy when she learned to tie her own shoes and pump on the swing, but a little sad that she was growing up. I was happy that she advanced each grade in school, but when the annual “Blessing of the Children” came at church, and I didn’t have any more elementary-aged children, it was a little sad. Soon she’ll be off to San Diego State, and I’ll be happy to hear of all her adventures there, but I will miss her terribly. So I’m deliriously happy that MCP has finished high school. I’m also a little sad that my baby is so grown up.