First Day of School

I always want to write something the night before the first day of school.  Something profound.  The problem is that at moments such as these, all profundity escapes me.

I’m just left here sitting on my couch, staring at the wall, speechless.

Because there’s just so much to think about on the night before school.

I think about how excited I am for her.  Magoo has been skipping around the house for a week in anticipation.  Last night after dropping off her school supplies, she told me she was going to sleep all day today (didn’t happen) because that would make tomorrow come sooner.

I think about how blessed I am.  This little girl is becoming a young lady.  (It’s true.  She told Goosie this awhile back.)  She’s confident.  And she’s smart.  She’s kind.  And she’s faithful.  I think back to years ago when I would get so sad at the thought of her growing up, and I laugh.  Because what I didn’t know back then was that as bittersweet as these moments are, the truest and most absolute joy of parenting is seeing them become who they are meant to be.  These are the things lives are made of.

And I think back to when she was two years old and I get wistful.  I remember the little girl who refused to leave the house without a princess dress, tiara, jewelry, and sun glasses on.  I think about the little girl who used to make me read Dr Suess’s ABC Book over and over again.  I think about the little girl who skipped through the zoo at two years old in trendy boots and a big furry jumper and a monkey on her butt.  I think of these things and I am overcome with gratitude for having lived them with her, for the privilege of being her mom.

And I think of her school, and I think of her teachers; I think of all teachers, and my heart fills with emotion.  I think of the care they put into treating each child as an individual.  I think of the joy she has experienced and will experience as she shares special moments with them.  I think of people who forgo a lot of money to dedicate their lives to teaching in Catholic schools, and I pray that what they might lack in financial compensation, they make up for feeling the love of all their little charges.  These are the people who choose to give their all to my kids.  And when my mind falters and drifts to the what ifs and what could bes, I am reminded that these are also the people who would jump in the line of fire and who would dry bitter tears in the moments when I am not able to do so.

I’ve questioned almost every decision I have made as a parent, but not for one single second have I questioned the decision to send her to her school.  It makes her better; it makes us better, and it’s a place where the love of God truly does shine.

And so I think that’s why I don’t often write on the night before school.  There are so many thoughts.  So many feelings that are just too big to put into simple words.

But this is the best I can do.

One day I hope my girls will be sitting on their couches, waiting for their children’s first day of school, and they will look back on these thoughts and know that just as they love their littles, they too were and are loved.  Truly and wholly and deeply.

Here’s to 2015/2016.