I was doing so well sending the kids off to school this morning. Everyone woke up at a reasonable hour (meaning, no one refused to wake up), everyone ate a good breakfast and got dressed in clean clothes. Hair was brushed. Shoes were put on. Pictures were taken.
And then, I got a text message. KitKat, my ninth grader, had forgotten her lunch at home. I needed to go out for milk and bread and notebook paper, anyway. So I dropped by the high school on my way to Walmart. While I sat at the light across from her school, I watching dozens and dozens of big kids – mini adults – strolling across the street, back to school. I drove through the drop-off circle, and KitKat reached in the car for the lunch, said “Thanks” and was quickly lost again in the sea of teenagers.
I drove away and my hands started to shake. A lump formed somewhere between my throat and my chest, and I had the urge to pull over and just watch the school. See if I could spot my little girl again.
She’s not a little girl anymore. How did this curly-haired princess…..
I’ve taken this new adventure in stride. I knew it was coming. I knew she was going to high school. I knew that she could handle it. And yet something inside ME couldn’t handle seeing her in the middle of all of those teenagers. It hit me as I drove away today that in just a few short years, I’d be dropping her off at a much bigger school, most likely much farther away. I thought about my own years of high school. My first kiss. Friends that meant the world to me making crazy decisions that shocked even me. The language. The topics of conversation. The college preparation.
I held the tears in, but just barely.
Sending my baby boy off to kindergarten today was nothing. Seeing my oldest baby at high school nearly put me over the edge.
Where did the time go?!
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