not my mantle

I feel so elated.

Tomorrow, I will officially be a college graduate.

It's a strange thing, graduating.
What I have held close so long is nearly over, but what I have been searching for this whole time, I found. And now I have another family. I have grown. God, you are so good to me, Thank-You. I cannot repay you. My gratitude seeps out of my very being. You love me so, I cannot even fathom.

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Here's a poem that I feel is fitting

Bottled Butterflies
by Reinhold Marxhausen

The little boy's two hands were closed tightly. They held something valuable. He said he had some butterflies. What good are butterflies when they are in a fist?

Do you really have butterflies in there? He nodded...and asked for a jar.

But butterflies need the sun and the flowers and the fresh air and the sunshine...and I don't believe you have butterflies in your fists. A trick.

The little face looked up with an expression that would dispel disbelief. Grudgingly the two fists slowly opened. Unbelievable! Seven beat up butterflies flopped about the fresh air like sheets of plywood in a hurricane. How does a small boy capture and contain seven butterflies in his fists? The same way adults fill their lives with things that will look good on the mantle.