Sixth-Grade Graduation

One of the things we (our Writers' Group) try to do at every meeting is to have some kind of writing exercise to stretch ourselves a little. A few months ago our task was to re-create a piece of writing in a different format. Years ago I wrote down some memories about my 6th grade graduation ceremony, something like this:


At some point in my sixth-grade year, my parents divorced. In some ways, this wasn't a big change because my mother had almost always worked a full-time job outside the home and handled all of the domestic chores. My father was not a very active parent. In any case, Mom continued to work hard all day and come home to continue working. As the end of my school year approached, she decided to make a special dress for me to wear to the end-of-year "graduation" ceremony: we sixth-graders would be leaving elementary school and moving on to junior high school.

So for a while Mom's evenings included not only housework and cooking, but also making this dress for me. I remember it vividly: it was no ordinary dress. It was a sheath dress made of snow-white fabric, onto which she stitched rows and rows of lace trim. The lace trim had an inset into which she threaded red satin ribbon. There were hours and hours of delicate handwork and love in that dress.

On the morning of the ceremony, I was allowed to wear pantyhose, I think for the first time ever! While that is not at all thrilling to me now, it was then. I felt so grown-up and sophisticated in my pantyhose and this beautiful, fancy dress Mom had spent so many hours crafting for me.  Mom left as usual to go to work as my sister and I prepared to leave for school.

For some reason I no longer remember, I decided to ride my bike to school - something I had never done before. I have a vague recollection of being persuaded to do it by a friend, but the details have been long forgotten. In any case, I did ride my bike to school, white party dress, pantyhose, and all. If you know me, you will not be surprised to hear that on the way to school I crashed my bike. Bike wrecks leave their mark: my pantyhose were shredded and my snowy white dress was no longer snowy white. It was now marred with grass stains and smears of bicycle chain oil.

I walked across the stage at school in that stained dress and ripped hose. The embarrassment I felt competed with my guilt to fill my emotions. What should have been a happy day was ruined, and my mother's sacrifice seemed ruined as well.

I don't remember Mom's anger and disappointment, although I am sure she felt those feelings. How could she not?

I do, however, remember her forgiveness and her love.



At the Writers' Group meeting I mentioned above, I took the challenge of changing this memoir into a poem:


Sixth-Grade Graduation

Hours of work
Of care
Of love
After days already full;
Tired hands
Tired eyes
Tired mind.

Yards and yards of white lace
Scarlet ribbon winding through
Fine stitches
Create a white dress
Fit for a princess.

Careless girl
Cycles
Swerves
Crashes
Picks up and
Continues on.

Heartbroken girl
In lovely white dress
Scarlet ribbon threaded
Through yards and yards
Of white lace

With tire marks
Grass and mud stains
And jagged tears
For all to see.

The infinite love of a mother
Forgives.