Noah's Adventure - 1. Chapter 1 Graduation Morning

I walk down memory lane

'Cause I love running into you

"How are you? I'm doing great"

And I have you back for a few

I just love the idea

When I see ya in my head

That's why I walk down memory lane

'Cause it's the only place

That I have you again

“Noah, are you awake?”

My uncle’s voice drifts through the half-open door, followed by a gentle knock.

“Yeah,” I manage, my throat tight. A single tear escapes, tracing a warm path down my cheek before falling onto the blanket. Today is my high school graduation — another milestone my dad won’t see.

The door creaks open, and a burst of energy bounds into the room. Brody. He’s a blur of messy hair and mismatched pajamas, his grin too big for his small face.

“Are you excited?” he chirps, his voice full of that effortless joy I used to have.

“Yeah, buddy. I am,” I lie.

“Let your cousin wake up, Brody,” Uncle Matt says, appearing in the doorway. His voice is calm, kind. “Your Grandma and Dad are downstairs getting things ready for the party.”

“I love you!” Brody declares, flashing his trademark smile before darting out of the room like a comet.

The bed dips as Uncle Matt sits beside me. For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. The silence feels thick — like the air itself knows what day it is.

“It’s crazy,” he says finally, his eyes scanning the attic room. “I can still feel your dad’s presence in here. He begged your grandparents for this space. Wouldn’t stop pestering them until they gave in.” He chuckles softly, then sighs. “Anyway… how are you holding up?”

A loaded question. Everyone’s been asking it, like there’s an answer that’ll make sense.

He looks tired — probably got in late after another emergency at the hospital. He’s one of the best psychiatrists in the country, the kind of person who reads people the way others read books. Hiding anything from him is impossible.

“Noah,” he says gently, “I know losing your dad, and now your mom—”

“She didn’t die, Uncle Matt.” The words burst out sharper than I intend. “She left me.”

He flinches slightly but doesn’t back away. “Noah—”

“Why does everyone act like that it bothers me?” My voice breaks, a painful quiver escaping before I can stop it.

“You’re allowed to feel angry,” he says softly.

“She hated me,” I whisper, then the dam breaks. The sobs come hard and fast, shaking my chest.

“Oh, Noah…” He pulls me close, his hand firm on my back as I cry into his shoulder. His cologne smells like cedar and hospital soap — oddly comforting.

It feels like we sit there for hours, though it’s only a few minutes. When I finally pull away, he wipes my tears with the edge of his sleeve.

“Your Uncle Brody and I are here for you,” he says. “And Grandma and Grandpa are worried. You’ve barely left this room in weeks.” He studies me, eyes glistening. “You look so much like your dad.”

I try to smile, but it comes out crooked. “Thanks.”

“Go shower,” he says. “It’s your big day.”

As he stands to leave, he pauses by the dresser. His fingers brush over a photo of Dad — the one where he’s laughing, caught mid-joke. I hear Uncle Matt whisper, barely audible, “Love you, bro.” Then he leaves.

The shower’s hot, but it doesn’t wash the heaviness away. Every drop feels like it’s counting down to something — another day without Dad, another step forward without him.

By the time I get dressed, I’m already late. They hate that. My family’s obsession with being early is almost sacred.

When I finally descend the stairs, the house quiets like someone hit pause.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Grandma says, her voice warm but cautious. Grandpa mutters something that might be a greeting, though it sounds more like a growl.

Brody’s at the island, syrup smeared across his face like war paint. He beams when he sees me. I can’t help but laugh. His dad groans beside him, trying to clean the sticky mess with a paper towel.

“Eat something, honey,” Grandma says, sliding a plate toward me. “We’ve got to leave soon. The rest of the family will meet us at graduation.”

I poke at my food. The smell of coffee, bacon, and maple syrup fills the air — the kind of scent that used to mean happiness. Now it just reminds me of everything that’s missing.

We pile into the car and head toward College Park. The world outside the window blurs — green trees, brick buildings, a sun too bright for how I feel inside. Dad would’ve made a big deal about today.

As we pull onto the University of Maryland campus, Uncle Brody stops at the Xfinity Center to let us out. “Good luck, kiddo,” he says as I climb out.

Inside, the noise is deafening — laughter, squeaky shoes, the hum of excitement. I follow the signs for graduates, check in, and find my spot in the lineup. Around me, faces blur together — classmates, strangers, memories in human form. I realize most of them I’ll never see again.

Except for two.

Across the room, Taylor and Jay are in their usual heated debate.
“You do not look like Harry Potter,” Taylor says, swatting Jay’s cap. “More like Voldemort.”
“You take that back, you Bellatrix wannabe,” he shoots back.

I can’t help but grin. They’ve been my constants since first grade, when Mom and I moved back here. Everyone always assumed Taylor and I were a thing. We weren’t. She’s my best friend — the loud, loyal kind that never leaves your side, no matter how dark it gets.

Before I can join them, Principal Morrison’s voice booms through the crowd.
“Graduates, please get in line. We’re about to begin.”

My stomach tightens. The ceremony begins to move forward like a slow tide.

As we file into the arena, the roar of applause fills the space. I spot my family instantly — Grandma, Grandpa, Uncle Brody, the kids… and then I freeze.

All my uncles are there. Even Nathan and Luca, who Grandma swore couldn’t make it until the weekend. A lump forms in my throat. She planned this. Of course she did.

The ceremony drags — names, speeches, polite clapping — until Principal Morrison steps up to the podium again.

“I’m honored to introduce this year’s graduation speaker,” he announces. “As an alumnus of this school, he has made our community proud. He currently serves as Chief of Psychiatry at Children’s Hospital in New York City. Please welcome Dr. Matthew Jacobs.”

Uncle Matt.

The crowd bursts into applause, and my heart swells. For the first time that morning, I smile — really smile.

Maybe Dad isn’t here. But part of him is.