I’m a person who is very good at remembering dates and anniversaries. (My car, for instance, turned a year old last Saturday.) But I never remember that we graduated on Cinco de Mayo until Becca reminds me each year. Probably because while she couldn’t wait to graduate, I was more like her brother, trying to figure out ways to stay.
(This year, I did realize it’s been four years, but only because Katie is graduating, and she started the year after I left.)
