LAST FIRST DAY

Today was the last first day of school for Nicholas under our roof. The timing coincided with a visit this past weekend from two of my dear friends from Austin who were dropping off their kids at U-M for college. Needless to say, it was an emotional weekend for my friends who had to say goodbye to their kids and see them stretch their wings without them.

I still have one more year with Nicholas, but I was deeply moved by how my friends navigated the weekend and by all the emotions that overcame them. It gave me a preview of what I will probably go through one year from now when Nicholas leaves home.

This morning, Nicholas got up as usual, ate his breakfast, and got dressed for school. However, today brought back memories of Cate's first day of fifth grade when we first moved to Ann Arbor. She refused to let us take her to school, saying that she wanted to ride her bike to her elementary school about 1.5 miles away on her own. I still remember that brave young soul exerting herself and riding away as I stood in the driveway. 

This first day was different from other years for another reason - Nicholas now drives and no longer needs a ride to school. Before they left, like other years, they let me take a photo of them on their first day.

Then, Nicholas and Cate loaded themselves into the Highlander.

They backed away out of the driveway and headed down Heather Way on their own. Again, I stood stunned in the driveway, taking it all in.

I thought about how much they have grown and how far they have come. We raise our children to be able to handle all kinds of situations and to become independent and capable of finding their way in this world. Moments like today and this past weekend reveal the bittersweet nature of accomplishing that mission. 

I now have a better understanding of what it truly means to be a parent. To sacrifice one's self for a child is the easy part; it is letting go that is the real work and every bit as important as the sacrifices.

I was reminded today of the poem "What is Supposed to Happen" by Naomi Shihab Nye, one of my favorite poets:

When you were small,

we watched you sleeping,

waves of breath

filling your chest.

Sometimes we hid behind

the wall of baby, soft cradle

of baby needs.

I loved carrying you between

my own body and the world.

Now you are sharpening pencils,

entering the forest of

lunch boxes, little desks.

People I never saw before

call out your name

and you wave.

This loss I feel,

this shrinking,

as your field of roses

grows and grows….

Now I understand history.

Now I understand my mother’s ancient eyes.

Her words and the emotions they evoke tell me that she surely is a parent. I think my friends and I, too, now share those ancient eyes.