Tuesday September 5
was the start of our 2017-2018 school year.
We have a first day of school tradition in our neighborhood - one that
was bittersweet for me this year because it marked my oldest son's last year of
Elementary school and from what my neighbors with middle school age children
tell me - very likely the last year he won't fuss about the first day of school
picture tradition. Given that in the
fall of 2018, he will be at the middle school and start much earlier than his
little brother, it is quite possible the next first day of school pic I will
take of them together is Freshman year for my youngest and Senior year for my
oldest. Just another reason it was a
bitter sweet start to the school year.
In full transparency, this marks the first year I shed a tear on Day 1
of school and for those of you that know me well, I cry lots of happy and sad
tears but for some reason the first day of school never seemed to ignite the
waterworks. This year, well this year
was different. As I watched the
neighborhood kids take a group picture and then line up by grade for more
pictures, memories of the last 6 years came rushing in and slowly but surely, I
began to tear up. Given that I forgot my sunglasses - just my luck - I did my
best not to look anyone in the eye and cautiously wiped away the drops that
fell to my cheeks. After pictures, our
entire crew, kids and parents took the inaugural first day walk to school.
This year felt much
different than past years as my oldest ran ahead with his friends, my little
guy stayed behind with his friends and I found myself with neither boy holding
my hand and instead surrounded by the neighborhood moms and dads. This moment caused a wave of mixed emotions
to rush through my mind. As we continued
walking through the neighborhood and over to the middle school side walk, my
little one caught up to me, grabbed my hand for a moment, smiled and then took
off running toward his friends who had continued walking toward the elementary
school; the older one already at the front door of the elementary school with
his friends. I was thrilled with how far
my 5th grader had come and who he was transforming into as a young man, or a
pre-teen as he calls it and loved seeing how independent the little one was
becoming. On the flip side, it made me a
bit sad as I felt them slowly slipping away - no longer little boys that
constantly needed their mama/mommy close by to help them feel safe and
grounded. My little birds were learning
to fly on their own, figure things out and become who they were born to
be……..with some guidance, role modeling and encouragement of course :)
Just before the
first bell rang I got hugs, kisses and an I love you mama/mommy from each of my
boys. As I watched them walk into school
together the waterworks began to flow and I decided that it was ok to let them
come rushing out as this was the end of one book and the start of another. As I walked home, tears streaming down my
face, I reflected on everything we had been through, how far we had come and
where we are headed; finally taking a deep breath and hoping that the first day
would bode well for both boys kicking off this milestone school year on the
right foot.
As I stood under the
trees next to the blacktop waiting for the boys to emerge from the cafeteria
where the children would be dismissed; optimism filled my heart and head, while
anxiety ran high within my body. It seemed
like forever before the boys came out of school that day, yet despite the long
wait, they came out smiling, full of energy and excitement about their teachers
and classmates. A feeling of pure joy
and relief came rushing over me, the anxiety dissipated and I hugged my boys
tightly, kissed each on the top of their messy hair and watched as they ran
toward the middle school hill to play with their friends. Laughter filled the air, the sun shined from
the sky and all was right in the world.
Dinner was complete,
the sun was setting - off to baths/showers they went - followed by teeth
brushing and of course the typical diversions to avoid going to sleep. As my younger one settled into bed for the
evening, we went through the typical routine of sharing our happy thoughts for
the day, bear included, and saying goodnight.
As I pulled the door closed so only a small crack remained, a sweet
little voice said I love you mama and asked if daddy could come up for his turn
to say goodnight.
Next up my older one
- out of sorts flexible bed time during the summer months - we had to nudge him
off to bed. He said goodnight to his dad
and asked if I would lay down next to him for a few minutes and talk - of
course I said yes knowing that any day now he may no longer ask. As I pulled his door closed - just before he
drifted off to sleep - I heard my not so baby boy say I love you Mommy. Not sure why, but
when I hear an endearing mama/mommy vs a shrieking Mom/Mother my heart skips a
beat the same as it did the day they were born.
It is in these moments I am reminded that they will always look to us for support, encouragement and guidance - just not
in the same ways they had for the years leading up to now.
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