The word commencement has always held an odd place in my head. As a child, I thought when you graduated high school, the Commencement Ceremony marked the end of high school. "It's Dun." As children we learn words through connotation. Context 'proved' this meaning, and it still remains deep seated. It wasn't until I was a senior in high school that I learned Commencement means Beginning, not End.
My mind grappled to change the idea of obviously done to mean some measurable beginning. I started to catch on when I was in my mid-twenties. "Oh, commencing adulthood. But what's that?" Murkier and murkier, to my mind. Between you, me and that first Robin, I still think it's a silly word to attach to a graduation ceremony.
The reason for my musing on commencement ceremonies is because my beloved daughter is commencing to buy her first house. Her heart is filled with joy for this long waited dream. She and Rocky never thought it was obtainable, but it looks like they will be in a new house, their own home, before Thanksgiving. Joy!
In spite of the fullness of her heart, there is room for sorrow. Her family has been living in this particular house for ten years. Her children grew up here. Funny, I just realized that Terrilynn and Rocky finally 'grew up' here, too. Brooke has spent half her life here, down to Leah who has never known a different home. This sense of home is tied as firmly to this building as the tire swing is tied to the butternut tree.
My mind grappled to change the idea of obviously done to mean some measurable beginning. I started to catch on when I was in my mid-twenties. "Oh, commencing adulthood. But what's that?" Murkier and murkier, to my mind. Between you, me and that first Robin, I still think it's a silly word to attach to a graduation ceremony.
The reason for my musing on commencement ceremonies is because my beloved daughter is commencing to buy her first house. Her heart is filled with joy for this long waited dream. She and Rocky never thought it was obtainable, but it looks like they will be in a new house, their own home, before Thanksgiving. Joy!
In spite of the fullness of her heart, there is room for sorrow. Her family has been living in this particular house for ten years. Her children grew up here. Funny, I just realized that Terrilynn and Rocky finally 'grew up' here, too. Brooke has spent half her life here, down to Leah who has never known a different home. This sense of home is tied as firmly to this building as the tire swing is tied to the butternut tree.