I graduated yesterday.

It’s been a long time coming – as I mentioned, I technically started my undergraduate degree in 2003.  But migraines and travel and money slowed things down a bit.  There were definite benefits to a slow path through school – I know what I want to do, I’ve learned a great deal about my strengths and weaknesses as a person and a researcher, I’ve had time to explore other interests, like swing dancing and playing the piano, and I know that school isn’t as important as I was led to believe.  So I don’t regret the seven years and two schools it took to get my degree, but it was a tense wait for some people, including my grandmother.

My gramma was born into a not very well to do family just as the Great Depression got very, very bad.  She’s very sharp and wanted to go to college  - she was fascinated by “those new computing machines.” But she was a woman in a poor family with three other children, so she went to nursing school and supported her own family while my grandfather went to college on the GI bill.

My gramma never pressured me, but I could tell she worried I would never graduate.  She was thrilled when she realized that I really would.  So, even though she hates cooking, she baked and express mailed me a cake this week.  I’d include a picture here, but her distaste for cooking doesn’t keep her from making the world’s best pound cake.  We’re not going to discuss how quickly I ate it.

My gramma and I have a lot in common – a love of sci-fi, gardening, and shoes, too.  A few years ago, she gave me many of the shoes she’d worn when she was younger.  She has excellent taste, even if most of them require a date (for a crutch, and a foot massage later).  At graduation, I wore a lovely pair of those shoes in her honor.  A fitting tribute to one of the most extraordinary people I know.