Over.

I am not a lover of ceremony.  

In fact, ceremony makes me grumpy out of my mind.

I have learned, however, that sometimes in life you need ceremony, in order to put behind you what is behind, 

and in order to move ahead.

Hence, when I was confronted with the reality that it was indeed time to put the season of school and student-hood behind me, 

I faced that ceremony with grumpy aplomb,

and went ahead and graduated.

Accompanied by this favorite lady,

[appropriately, 

the one who has walked me through these past 6 years]

I made my way among a grand processional.

In fact,

I practically led said processional,

given my dear advisor's unfortunately broken ankle,
complete with scooter and alternative arrangements for escorting me across the stage.

We made our way to our reserved seats, 

and enjoyed together all that the moment held for us.

When it was time,

 I stood as new Doctors were acknowledged,

 received the hooding that made it official,

 the diploma that made it mine.

I walked the long pathway back to my seat,

and remembered the long road that brought me to this point.

I found that 

though I entered the place a normal woman,
I exited--

graduated.

I located my peeps,

 who'd sat through that long ceremony just to see me,

 [or, who'd run around that entire stadium, photographing me...]

 the ones who'd come to say that the ceremony meant something,

and that they supported me.

I smiled, soaked it in.  I found myself, grumpy-less.  

The ceremony had worked it's magic, I suppose, there to say:
The season is over...

...just like I was there to say,
without one smidgen of grumpy anywhere to be found:

It is over indeed.