It felt like a fucking graduation.
I was that teary-eyed parent watching my kid walk up the stage to accept her hard-earned diploma.
Except that it was my sister.
And it was her citizenship certificate.
After all those tears. All those doubts. All those years of eating KFC whenever she felt sad about the hazy prospect of it all. Also, when she wanted to celebrate the small wins. Raising both our hopes and our cholesterol levels one wicked wing at a time.
It was a long and winding road, I'll tell you that much. I was finding it hard to read her cards when I myself was personally invested in the outcome. There's only so many tarot readings you can do when the cards were always telling her to wait and be patient. The spreads as vague as my frustrated interpretation of their message.
I wanted to wear something symbolic for the event, thus the polka dot dress to commemorate all the tears shed and shared. A beautiful vintage blue dress photogenic only at one particular angle which I didn't notice until I saw some of the pictures. But, whatever.
I couldn't be more prouder of my sister. She did this all by herself. Sacrificed so much to get to where she is now and I couldn't be happier for her.
Even Jeff couldn't be happier for her. He seemed happier than her, as a matter of fact, the way he was waving his Australian and Aboriginal flags with gusto while singing Waltzing Matilda as the brass band played, his big voice loudly resonating a couple of rows out.
Proudly crazy. I mean, Aussie.
It was a celebration made even sweeter having our mum there, after much convincing to extend her stay so she can make it for the once-in-a-lifetime milestone that marks the beginning of another chapter of her daughter's life.
Cheers to many more.
*Raven at 7 years old
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