Beyond the Script

I tend to diminish big milestones, preferring to find my memorable moments in unexpected places. Candid vs. posed photos. But this week, I was reminded of the value of momentous occasions.

Over the weekend, we traveled back to Princeton for my husband’s 25th reunion. Princeton reunions are hard to explain. Imagine three days of pomp and circumstance, celebration, bands, dancing, reconnecting with friends, fireworks, games, and receptions. These three days of reunions precede graduation serving as a send off to this latest crop of students. Among all the years that head back, the 25th is the biggest - it’s pretty magical.

While I was excited to go, I underestimated the power of such an event to deliver the kind of memories I cherish most. While the reunion itself isn’t what will endure, the reunion is what made the weekend possible.

I’ll remember my son’s wide-eyed comment, “This is soooooo cool!” while listening to an a cappella group sing in one of the many arches on campus.

I’ll remember taking my boys to our very favorite ice cream shop, and the dinner of nachos, pizza and mozzarella sticks we ate in a tavern at midnight.

I’ll picture the blue heron my former teammate and I saw while doing one of our favorite runs from our cross country days nearly 3 decades ago.

I’ll remember watching my boys entertain themselves with popcorn while mommy and daddy talked and talked and talked to old friends.

I’ll feel my son’s wonder as he gasped at the fireworks.

I’ll imagine the way campus looked aglow in orange lights.

I’ll smile as I think of dancing with our kids and friends late into the night.

Sometimes the momentous things give us the cameos we don’t anticipate.

On the heels of this reunion, we returned home to wrap up homeschooling for the year (and possibly for good since our boys are going back to school in the fall). Upon completing his math curriculum, my 8 year old asked if he could have a math graduation ceremony. Given my tendency to gloss over these milestones, I hadn’t thought about marking the occasion, but his enthusiasm for a ceremony sent me to the depths of my closet. I located my old graduation gown, last donned as a Hogwarts robe when I dressed up as Hermione Granger a few Halloweens ago. In addition to dusting off the gown, I grabbed my old cap and tassel and gave him his choice of my undergrad or grad school hoods. My husband dressed up in his most classic “Mr. Dadman” teacher outfit (plaid shirt and glasses), and I rolled up a homemade diploma.

It was simple, and his requested ceremony came together in a snap. And much like the reunion, it’s not his “graduation” that I will hold onto. Captured in my mind is the way he smiled when he rounded the corner to the makeshift podium on the stairs, the way he stepped on the too-big robe, and the funny little accent he used when he unrolled and read the words on his “official” diploma.

Despite trying hard not to be a binary thinker, I can sometimes be a binary thinker - “no” to traditional ceremonies, “yes” to quirky randomness. This week reminded me that these approaches aren't mutually exclusive. In fact, it can be amidst the pomp and circumstance of major milestones where I find the sort of unexpected, candid memories I treasure most.