On the morning my son graduated from college, he told me I would be better off sitting in the audience.He said it gently.That was the part that hurt most.Daniel stood in the hallway of my small brick house, turning slightly in front of the narrow mirror beside the coat closet.His black gown hung from his shoulders, still folded in stiff places from the garment bag.The gold cords around his neck caught the morning light coming through the front windows.For a second, he looked like every prayer I had ever whispered had put on a cap and gown.Then I reached up to smooth the collar of his shirt.He moved away.“Mom,” he said, his voice low.“Please.”My hand stayed in the air between us.I pulled it back slowly and tucked it against my purse strap.“I just wanted the collar to sit right,” I said.“I know.” He exhaled through his nose and glanced toward the kitchen.“But I need today to go smoothly.”
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