I stand in a sea of black,
a group of graduates,
of smiles and sweat,
lining up,
marching forward, under
the brightest lights.
Chloe salutes me, flashes her Vans.
Dylan half smiles at me, I smile back.
We, the class of 1994,
face
the crowd.
A big-deal news reporter talks
about the opportunity
to go forth unafraid, follow your future,
trust your path, make
your way,
look back on this time and remember it was special.
Her voice floats away like
a drifting log
and all I can see is him:
smiling large,
bright blue eyes
focused right on me.
Dad Is Here.
I exhale deep as
he lifts his long, thin arm
and waves.