Graduation day finally came.
As I entered the gym, I heard whispers and laughter.
“That’s Miguel, the garbage man’s son.”
“I bet he doesn’t even have new clothes.”
But I didn’t care anymore.
After twelve long years, I stood there—magna cum laude.
At the back of the room, I saw my mother.
She wore her old blouse, stained with dust, and held her cracked cell phone.
But to me, she was the most beautiful woman in the world.
When they called my name—“First place—Miguel Ramos!”—I stood up, trembling, and walked toward the stage.
Applause filled the hall as I received my medal.
