The night of her high school graduation, when she turned 18, I stood at the edge of the gymnasium floor with my phone in hand and tears in my eyes.
When they called her name and she walked across that stage, I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I clapped so loudly the man next to me gave me a look.
I didn’t care.
Not one bit.
That night, Ainsley came home buzzing with the kind of energy only people who have just crossed a finish line can have. She hugged me at the door and said, “I’m exhausted, Dad. Night,” before heading upstairs.
