Considering how many tissues I trashed during his high school graduation, the fact that I did not shed one single tear during Michael’s college graduation was a major accomplishment. I thought I had conquered the tear ducts. I was in control of the crying! Hip, hip, hooray!
I was wrong.
Seems those tear ducts must have felt neglected over graduation weekend and last week they decided to make up for lost time. Was I alone in my home where I could cry in peace? Was I alone in my car? Was I at least somewhere alone? Oh, of course not. I was at the bank. The bank of all places!
Michael and I went to local branch to separate our accounts. Ten years ago he opened a checking account under our names. Each time I checked my account online, I could check his. At one point that was helpful; now, it’s completely unnecessary. Plus, now that he’s getting paid for his big boy job, it feels a little mom stalker-ish. And that is not the vibe I’m going for right now.
When we got to the bank, I confidently walked up to the teller, explained that my son just graduated from college and we needed to take him off our account and have him open his own. The minute the words left my lips I teared up. Big, glassy tears that just spilled right onto my checks. The teller stood there dumbfounded. Michael, now used to the spectacle, just patted me on the back.
The teller walked away to get some paperwork – I think she just left to give me a chance to compose myself. And I did. Thankfully there was a box of tissues at one of the teller stations, so I was able to blot away the moisture and get myself together. By the time she came back with a new signature card, I was calm, cool and collected. We finished the business at hand and walked out the door.
I would like to say that was an isolated incident. I would really, really like to, But when we got home, I had to call the moving company to schedule the truck. When the lady on the phone said, “Because this move is over 40 miles, we consider it a long-distance move…”
Thank goodness for tissues.