We’re a weepy bunch.
And it started yesterday with my husband who was brushing a sleeve over his eyes when he stepped in from the garage. He waved away my fear. Nothing was wrong. “It’s just…” He half-laughed, half blew his nose. “It’s just the last time I’ll be picking him up from school and I want to walk slowly with him.”
This morning my boy in his argyle sweater, the one hidden away in the top drawer for a special occasion, flung his arms ’round my waist and burst with a proposal. “I love you so much, mommy,” he said. “I just want to marry you.” And my heart swelled.
Today isn’t Mother’s Day or even special sweater day. But Graduation.
Graduation from Kindergarten. For this one.
Which might mean that in twelve years we’ll look back at this crowd and gasp about how tiny they really were. We just don’t see it now.
Because today…they’re big. They’re six. They’ve lost teeth, turned their pants to highwaters, stuttered out real sentences, and slept all the way through the night.
They’ve memorized the Pledge of Allegiance, mumbled My Country Tis of Thee…
And impressed us all with the words to Your a Grand Ole Flag.
It’s time to graduate.
To say ‘goodbye’ to Kindergarten and the teachers who loved on us for two and half hours a day. Monday through Friday. September to May.
To celebrate in a blue gown with a zipper we can’t keep our hands off of and with a white piece of paper we know is important but can’t quite read.
And to stand one more time with our friends. The ones beside us. The ones who want to be army guys and police officers, artists and house builders.
And who one day may become all they aspire to be.
And so we are…proud of this one…
And this one…well. He’s just happy there was food at the end.