The Other Side of Someday

When we first came home from Ukraine with our four-month-old son, John, I spent part of that summer converting my daily journal entries from the three-week trip into a more cohesive story, something to share with the family, and especially him, later on. It ran for about 60 pages, and it closed with “The beginning.” He was six months old when I finished it, and life was all about “some day.” Some day he’d walk. Some day he’d have his group of friends. Some day he’d be playing high school soccer, or working towards becoming an Eagle Scout. Some day he’d find an activity, a talent to latch onto and develop. Some day he’d go to college and start a career. Some day he’d define himself and shape his life. Now he is on the football field outside of the high school. Graduation ceremonies for the Class of 2019 just ended inside the gym, and 120 of them marched out, headed for the football field. The school tradition is for an outdoor gathering that brings the graduates together with families, teachers, and recent graduates. The stadium lights are on and the seniors, with a few minutes’ head start on everyone else, are recongregating at midfield, a mass of red robes under a beautiful spring sky. I am not close enough to hear what anyone is saying, but they are clearly getting themselves together one last time. As parents and families and teachers reach the field, the graduates heave their mortarboards skyward as one, and cheer as the sky fills with this flock of slashing, zigging squares.