23 May
2014
Posted in: parenting
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Crying Over the End of School

Class of 2021 Collage Display

I remember the day he pushed me away.

When our oldest son was almost three years old, he went to climb a structure at a park we frequented and for the 10,000th time I went to spot him. This time was different. He told me he could do it himself, and he did.

Last night that same boy who I no longer look down to talk with, who wears the same size shoe as I do and whose hands no longer dwarf in mine, said goodbye to elementary school. He told me that morning, “It’s alright if you cry, but I’m ready for junior high.” And he is.

I cried for this mama who would love to rock that toddler just one more time or take one more photo of his ridiculously mismatched kindergarten outfits.

I cried for the childhood memories — most wonderful, but some rotten — contained in the walls of his school.

I cried for the people who work at his school, many who I now call friends, who taught, guided and watched over our boy for six years.

I cried for the abundance of blessings and thanksgiving I could not hold in.

I cried for the mama I was six years ago who was still trying to nail down what type of mama she was. I cried because that mama would be very proud of where we are today.

I cried for the junior high full of new teachers and students who will become part of my son’s story.

I cried for the extremely capable, lovable, witty young man who was the first to call me mama.

I cried because sometimes words fail to communicate the depth of my emotions.

Amidst my crying, we took time to celebrate the elation of finishing elementary school and the excitement of a new adventure ahead.

 

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