The morning is foggy and their families complain that they made the trek to San Diego hoping for warm weather. Lilly promises the gray skies will turn and the sun will come out. And they didn’t travel all this way for a beach day. Jack runs down the stairs in a collared shirt and dark pants, without a tie, because like his father, he does not like formal wear. Mick has a collared shirt on, too, for the dual celebration.
In the parking lot of the high school football stadium, Lilly helps Jack into his robe and evens the honors stole he wears over the blue gown, signifying his academic achievement.
“This is only the first of more graduations to come,” Lilly says. “College, then graduate school, and maybe even a doctorate. Dr. Jack O’Connell.”
“Or maybe he’s heading to the 2036 Olympics, but no pressure,” Mick says, and squeezes his son’s shoulder.
At home, Jack has a letterman’s jacket for his athletic achievements and he’s earned a scholarship to run track and field in college. They send Jack off to line up with his friends, a last hurrah before they head into the graduation ceremony.
As she watches Jack leave, Lilly holds Mick’s hand. In the bleachers, they sit, with his parents on one side, hers on the other, Jack’s cousins and her sister and brother-in-law in the row in front. Today Jack graduates high school, but Lilly and Mick are also celebrating their 20th anniversary. There was a time when Jack was small that Lilly was sure they wouldn’t make it, but now as she watches him cross the stage, the past is a blip and the future stretches out before them, full of possibility.
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