The Graduation Gift - Pandemic Ed.

Canceled

Postponed.

While this eerie word lingered in the front of my mind, I chose to be optimistic. The world may have shut down but surely, I could celebrate my college graduation, right? This trip had been planned almost a year in advance. I already had the new snorkeling set, the new white bikini with soft blue flowers, and that flowy dress I saw in the boutique's window last summer. My friends were probably annoyed at hearing me talk about the stunning beaches of the Cayman Islands, specifically the warm sand that melted through my fingertips.

Three and half years of countless studying, homework, and writing would finally be matched by countless hours of sunbathing, eating, and exploring. My time to relax and celebrate was right around the corner, but the looming pandemic seemed to mock my excitement. Just when I thought the gripping fear of disappointment was too much, my worst-case scenario played before my eardrums.

"Our cruise is canceled," my mom whispered.

Tears threatened my eyes, but I considered it stupid to cry over a vacation. "I guess we'll have to go with Plan B."

What was Plan B? Chicago, of course. The windy city won my heart four years ago, and I had longed to walk those streets once again. The bustle of natives and tourists was enough to keep my senses occupied, but I craved the cocoa in those Nutella crepes and the smell of salt on the pier the most. I may have missed out on a cruise to the Caribbean, but I would not miss out on a vacation to Chicago. It was my graduation gift after all.

My mom busied herself for the next two weeks, searching for the cheapest flights and hotels. I had never seen a woman work so diligently for her daughter's graduation present. In exactly two months, I would be walking across that stage with my head held high, partly covered with a mask, and accept my diploma. I remained overly optimistic that my mom would find a way.

"Chicago is shut down," my mom bitterly shared. "We can't go there..."

It was one month until I would turn my tassel, and anger boiled within me. Why couldn't I celebrate this major milestone? Why was the pandemic against me? My optimism was thinning, and I could see no hope. There would be no salty water, burning sand, or skyscrapers. There would be no snorkeling with my dad and sister, no laughter in an island restaurant. There would be no new sights, sounds, or smells. There would be no vacation.

My mom's hand found its way to my slumped back as I held in the tears. "I know this is frustrating," she began. "But I have an idea. What if we go back to Charleston? What if we vacation and celebrate at home?"

A light sparked within my eyes, a hope. Maybe the pandemic wouldn't steal my joy. Maybe I could celebrate in my favorite place of all. I could still celebrate in my hometown.