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Posted by Connie Newbauer Aug 31, 2006 |
Can you feel the excitement of the approaching school year? Everyone in our house is mourning the loss of time together and family adventure. The children are eyeing the approaching school year with both the excitement and dread of an on-coming train!
Although we can't stop school from opening, we can dance until the bells ring!
I cry on the first day of school - every year without fail. What's wrong with me? Two days before the scheduled bus arrival, other parents have their children dressed, decorated with their new shoes and glossy back-packs waiting for the bus on the corner.
Meanwhile, I stand inside, blocking the door, re-adjusting ribbons and shoe laces until we hear the screech of air brakes outside our door. I have always felt a genuine loss of companionship when the children leave.
Fall turns serious for me. It is a time of literary renaissance, propelled by a deep sense of loss. But today, I have hope! There is one more day to play - and I intend to make the most of it!
Just for today, my I will ignore the dirty bathrooms, the growing piles of laundry, the dishes in the sink and the carpet in need of a vacuum. I will play. I will tumble down the grassy hill with my pre-schooler rolling over and over and then lay silently grasping his hand while we look up at the sun and clouds.
Just for today, I will tap into his endless curiosity about why the birds will soon leave and who tucks in the trains at night.
Just for today, I will take one final glimpse of my child before I render him into the care of strangers for the next nine months.
Just for today we will explore the world together and relish the sweetness of just being together.
Tomorrow I will cry as he walks his first grown-up walk to the bus on trembling legs; but for today, I will cherish what I have.
In a startling dose of reality, I soon realize these times are but happy memories and coming to an end. My baby is now 16 and towers over me at 6'1, 260 pounds. He no longer welcomes a last tumble in the grass with me - he is headed to football practice this morning to tumble in the grass with his peers. A right of passage. A sure mark of fall...And so, I stand in tears...remembering...
The laughing child who, in the past, would grab my hand to race ahead of me to the hills, laughing, head thrown back as he raced towards an invisible finish line has grown. Today, like never before, I will cherish the brief moments I still have with him until some other woman runs and laughs with him upon the hill.
Time passes swiftly. Put down the mop and dance on a hill.