My youngest started kindergarten this year and my emotional reaction has been pretty mild so far. That first day another kid was screaming and clinging to his parents and I was so proud of my little independent Miss Jessica and her can-do attitude. Then I tried to walk away. I had to peek back into that classroom twice just to make sure she was still happy. Then I had to walk home, all by myself, for the first time in something like 15 years. I kept thinking about how my last child was off to be taught by the world and not by me. She would come home that day knowing things I didn't offer her myself. I felt a little bit sad but also proud of myself and my kids for making it through another one of the many challenges and trials of life. I said a prayer of gratitude and went home to a very quiet house.
Today was the first time I dropped her off and she didn't look back and wave.
I waited for it.
I sat there in the car at the curb as she ran towards the building, down the sidewalk, past the big pine tree, up the short ramp and through the door.
No wave. Not a single glance for me there in the car at the curb. Ah, fickle youth. More excited to head for her next adventure than pulled back towards the steadiness of the mom-comfort. And a little string somewhere twanged as it broke, it may have been a heart-string but much more likely an apron-string, and I drove home to that very quiet house grateful that I've succeeded in raising an independent child and a little sad about it too.
