My husband went to pharmacy school and all I got was this lousy t-shirt

There was a dearth of pharmacists in this country roughly six years ago; an alarming trend that the industry sought to change through heavy recruitment of new pharmacy students. My husband was one of them who, in mid-life, discovered a job change would do him good...and six looooong years later, he's (we're) almost there.

He graduates in May (god-willing-and-the-crick-don't-rise, knock on wood, turn around clock-wise three times and then spit over your left shoulder as you say 'shelaleigh' real loud*) and he doesn't really want to walk the stage to get his diploma. I told him he must walk... for me, so I can take his picture. He's acquiesced to my request, but not real enthusiastically. To him it's all cake at this point -- useless and filled with a bunch of empty calories. He's jumped through hoops for that school...and he's done.

I know it seems easy for me to say, but I've gone through it with him. He did the studying and the testing and the projects and the butt kissing, yes. But I endured as well. I endured being a de facto single mom for all the many weeks he's stayed at school to save on gas. I've endured long nights alone in our bed, sleepless and lonely. The severe weather warnings, and worry -- no, not for us, here -- for him up there, in that tiny little camper probably being buffeted about by the golf-ball sized hail.

Yep. I've gone through it, too. He's got the knowledge, tucked safely in his brain; the credentials are his, and his alone...But I walked that path with him and dreamt of seeing him at the finish line triumphant. And I want to take that picture that simply wouldn't be the same if staged after the fact.

So, yeah. He's gonna walk, and he'll do it with a smile on his face. Because for him, it'll be all about the pride he sees in my eyes when he catches me looking at him; all about the many times that he thought he might not make it, but I knew he could. I'm his biggest fan, and he knows it. He would blow it off if it was just for him.

But it's not. It's for me, and he knows giving me that gift is way better than a t-shirt.

*I made that one up.