Nowhere on the diploma
does it say "graduated." Yet
he did his time, seventeen
years. Walked across the
stage, all the parents
cheered. Class of two.
But the handsomely
framed certificate politely
says "completed." We
celebrate it. Take it in
stride. There is no talk
of future plans. No college.
No wife.
No kids. Then, what?
A car? A house? No,
none of that either. His
world is small. Mom
and Dad. Even Brother
and Sister have their own
lives. He is the one labeled
"special needs." What
will his life be?

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