Life, it seems, has a sense of humor.
After writing about graduation tickets being rationed like wartime milk, and after graciously accepting my fate as a member of the Grandparent Standing-Room-Only Division, we received a phone call at 6:10 PM.
Extra tickets for the 7 PM graduation.
Not only did Sabba and I get to go, but we brought my sister and brother-in-law, as well.
We didn't sit together. That didn't matter. We were there.
We watched our granddaughter graduate from eighth grade. We watched the graduation show. Well, to be completely honest, I watched a two-hour eighth-grade show with the special superpower granted only to grandparents: the ability to feel nachas through absolutely anything.
My granddaughter wasn't on stage most of the time. She was an MC, and then backstage, moving scenery, helping the production run smoothly, making sure everything happened when and where it was supposed to happen.
The audience saw the show. I saw her.
And when it was over, she came out from backstage, smiling and happy. We took pictures. We hugged. We celebrated.
So perhaps the lesson is this:
Sometimes we don't get the ticket. And sometimes, just when we've made peace with not getting the ticket, four extra tickets appear. Either way, the joy is the same.
Mazal tov, sweetheart. What a privilege it is to watch you grow.
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