A Ribboned Gift

I wasn't looking for connections. They were handed to me. Already tied up in a bow with three ribbons.

Yesterday my oldest daughter graduated from college. She's done the whole thing by correspondence. CLEP tests, online classes, Dante's tests. She went in at noon for the big six credit math CLEP and called an hour later.  "I PASSED!"

Yesterday the space shuttle Discovery made its 39th and final launch. We watched it on NASA web. 

Yesterday I got an invitation to read my essay, "Oral Histories" at The Pinch journal's release party. March 25th. In Memphis. Oral Histories is an essay about my oldest daughter, her seven years of illness and slowly regained health. It is full of her love for the stars. The essay follows different space shuttle launches and spends long evenings in the grass gazing at stars and satellites.  It ends with my daughter beginning correspondence college.

Does it mean anything? The day she graduates, the shuttle launches for its last time, and the writing about it all goes to a release party. We are tied - interwoven - to so many things in life.

Homemade chocolate cake with coffee-flavored icing. Life is a ribboned gift.