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.
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