and I don't even cry (lyn)

I drive back to Cornell for the convocation.  It’s a short ceremony where the Dean of the College of Arts and Sciences officially accepts the class of 2015.  Like the other attendees, I am proud and honored to be a part of this tradition.

Alexander confesses that last night, he and 15 other freshman were on the way to their first dorm meeting.  The elevator stopped on another floor and 8 more freshmen rushed in.  Half a floor later and the elevator stopped.  The kids pushed the emergency button but nothing happened.  They called 911 and explained the problem.  “What are 23 kids doing in one elevator?” asked the 911 operator who is probably accustomed to calls like this.  They were rescued about thirty minutes later.  As he is telling me this, I think back to the Dean’s speech about the intelligence of the kids admitted here.  Apparently that intelligence does not extend to common sense.

Alexander is already embracing his independence and making new friends ( the elevator fiasco must have been a good bonding experience).  He is ready for this big adventure.

Around 11 or so, Alexander walks me to the car and we hug good-bye.  The tears I had expected to fall, don’t.  It’s hard to be sad when your child is so happy.