By Paulette Terry, San Francisco, CA

 The final grades came today, already opened, but still in folds from their envelope.
 A good sign; out on the dining room table, as if proclaiming themselves openable, without risk.
 Still, I hesitated.  Drawn back to the times of years ago I found myself praying - no forethought, just reaction from the past, from a time when I believed prayer could literally change things; one Hail Mary and the contents of an envelope altered to whatever the person wanted them to read.
 So, a pause,  and picking up the sheet, an inperceptible turn of the head as if I couldn't bear to look all at once.
 First English...C, oh, God, the relief.  Then skipping down, an A in Modern American History, then B's all, except for the Math C.
 Then from the same place as the prayers, tears...big, soaking sobs, relief and "Thanks you, Gods"...an entire series of them.
 Closure, finally closure.  It really happened, grades in, college will really happen.  More sobs, tears, relief, finally over, closure.
 I am exhausted, utterly.  But, I slip out of the house, first a small knock on my son's door..."Congratulations".  A small voice says "Thank you" in return.
 I move away from the house, an overwhelming need to be alone but celebrate as well.  I round the corner and seek quiet refuge in a restaurant of subtle elegance, just in the neighborhood.
 And I eat and I reminisce and I know the part I played in this success.  It comforts me.  And I celebrate it alone where no one knows where I am.