MAMA

Today me and Greg

are graduating from

elementary school.

It feels like a gigantic step,

going to a brand-new school

where there will be no Aunt Bee

or Mr. Langley. It feels a little scary,

if I’m honest.

We sit up on a stage with

all the other fifth graders,

who probably feel excited and

scared at the same time, just like me.

The lights blur the audience,

but I know who’s there.

Gran. Granddad.

Charlie. Mr. Langley.

And Mama.

She showed up right before

me and Greg had to get onstage.

I didn’t know if she would come,

but she had to watch her boy

graduate, she said. She hugged me

close and kissed the top of my head.

I’m so proud of you, she said.

She smelled like cigarette smoke.

Greg looked away, but not before

I saw the water in his eyes.

Three months ago his mama

was moved to a home where

nurses can take care of her all the time.

He still gets really sad about it.

He misses her a bunch, especially

on days like today.