Done…but not finished.
These are words my friend Blaine offered yesterday about graduation. They couldn’t feel more true.
Yesterday, I walked. It’s official. I have a long black robe and the fancy cap made famous by the gentleman on the Yahtzee box. I have a diploma (or at least a piece of paper promising me that I’ll get one if I passed my spring classes). I have a beautiful black, red and white hood. I have photographic evidence that I walked across the stage.
I am done. And it feels ridiculous to say so.