The Mother She Was Ashamed Of

Linda Morgan stood among hundreds of elegantly dressed families, clutching a small bouquet of flowers wrapped in plain brown paper.

She had arrived twenty minutes early.

She had checked her phone three times.

And every few seconds, she looked toward the graduation stage, searching for one face.

Emily.

Her daughter.

For twenty-three years, Linda had imagined this moment.

She remembered Emily's first day of kindergarten. Her first piano recital. Her high school graduation. The nights Linda had worked until her hands ached so Emily could have better textbooks.

Now Emily was graduating from one of America's most prestigious universities.

Linda had spent almost an hour choosing what to wear.

She knew her faded beige cardigan was old. She knew the blouse underneath had been washed too many times. She knew her modest skirt looked completely different from the designer dresses surrounding her.

But she had come to celebrate her daughter.

That was all that mattered.

Then she saw Emily.

Emily stood among several wealthy classmates, wearing an expensive graduation gown and a perfectly styled cap. Her blonde hair was flawless. Her handbag probably cost more than Linda's monthly rent.

Linda's face immediately brightened.

She raised the bouquet.

"Emily!"

Emily turned.

For one beautiful second, their eyes met.

Then Emily's smile disappeared.

Her face became pale.

One of her friends followed her gaze toward Linda.

Another whispered something.

Emily's expression tightened.

Linda didn't hear what they said.

She only saw her daughter walking toward her.