School started last week and it was a bittersweet day for me. It was my last first day of school. For the last 17 years, I have enjoyed my kids' first days of school complete with bright smiles, new haircuts, specially chosen lunch boxes and unbroken-in shoes. I remember each of their first days of kindergarten as they reluctantly let go of my hand and headed off into the unknown of the classroom. Then as they moved through elementary, to middle school, to high school the excitement around first day of school changed for my kids, but it still remained a key rite of passage to me. It has signified their progress, maturity and growth - both physically and intellectually.
After decades of parenting my three children my youngest son started his senior year with little fanfare or excitement on his part, but with carefully hidden tears from his mom. Thus has begun my year of "lasts." Each time I do something for the last time (school pictures, Mom's football game, Homecoming, senior dinners, etc..) there comes a pang to my heart that reminds me that this phase of my life is ending. For the last 21 years much of my identity and how I have prioritized my life has been wrapped up in my children. As I look ahead to life with no children at home, I have both trepidation and excitement as to what the future holds and how I will handle this huge life transition.
So I will not hide or minimize the tears that come to my eyes as I experience each of the "last time" moments over the next nine months. I will consider each tear a reminder of the long lasting value of the time I spent nurturing, training, and loving each of my kids.
