Red

I am standing in a line of matching red polyester gowns, red polyester hats, legs, and dress shoes. The only difference between each gaudy red gowned person is the face between the collar and the hat. Everyone else is excited. The air buzzes with voices, excitedly chattering about their plans for the night. I remain silent.

We are finally herded into the main arena. The scoreboard lights are dark. The people in the red gowns frantically scan the waiting crowd for their family and friends, as if to say “I am the center of the world right now. Where are my people?” I do not submit to the scanning of the crowd. I know exactly where the people I want to see are. They are seated about a fourth of the way up in the middle on the right hand side. They wave. I respond in kind.

One by one, other red gowned people orate to the sea of red gowns, as if to say “Look at me up here on display. I am better than you.” Old men in bad suits and twiggy women in bad dresses stand before the sea of red gowns and tell them to seize the future. Then, one-by-one, like dumb cows to slaughter, the sea of red gowns is herded onto a stage while their name is proclaimed and the old men and twiggy women hand each red gowned member of the sea a piece of paper ensconced in a cardboard folder. They limply shake hands as if to say “Goodbye. Your time with us is over. We are responsible for your success but do not screw up.”

Once the sea of red gowns has resettled into their seats in the arena, more old men and twiggy women speak of the present being a gift and more red gowned people speak of the importance of now. I idly gaze towards where I know my family is. My mother looks bored, my father looks half asleep. My gaze is drawn upwards, towards the top of the section of seats. There, above the entry for the concession stand, are faces I did not want to see on this day of leaving. The lady with the wiry grey curls, the woman with the limp red strands, they were not invited. My eyes twitch from them back to my mother and father and back up to them.

Then one of the old men or twiggy women announce the graduating class of 2004. The sea of red gowns erupts into screams and cheers, and red polyester hats are thrown violently into the air. There is hugging and cheering and laughter around me. My world has seemingly just crashed down around me. In the midst of the happiness, I break down and weep.