Tuesday, January 10, 2017

Last, First Day

I got a phone call from Oldest today. While I miss her in the house and our everyday lives, and think about her a hundred times a day, hearing the ring tone designated for my kids was not bringing a smile to my face - mostly because my face was sleeping trying to anyway - but I roused myself from my flu-induced nap to connect before she went to voicemail. If that isn't mother love, I don't know what is

Once I made myself heard after hacking up a lung and was able to ask what she was doing, she explained she was running home before heading to the library on campus. She was full to brimming with the excitement that comes with the first day of new classes - what to expect, which professors she had classes with previously and was happy to be with again, how she would balance 6 classes, her internship, and working. Ah, the energy of youth It stirred within me all the feelings of new beginnings that I know and love so well - truly worth giving up my nap.

Then she said something.

She said, "It's my last first day of school."

Now I am sitting here thinking of her first, first day of school. Little-girl bangs and eyes alight behind her glasses, she was so excited in her pooh bear overalls. I walked her through the neighborhood to the school, pushing chickenpox covered Boy in the stroller. She was chattering the whole way, asking about homework and lunch, reassuring herself that it would be a good class because, "You know my teacher right, Mom? You worked in her classroom." (which I had as an intern class in college)

The memories hit me - coming around the corner to the classroom and peeking through the windows for a glimpse of the brand-new students already at their seats and curiously exploring the space with their eyes. Seeing the child unwilling to let go, and then Oldest saying, "Okay, bye Mom!" as though she had done this so many times before. This day, this memory is far too vivid and fresh to belong to this young woman embarking upon her last semester of college. 

But she is. It is her last, first day.

I feel proud and nervous and excited to watch her as she takes these steps toward graduation. But I would be lying if I said there wasn't a teary part of me that looks on in astonishment wondering how it happened that my strong, independent little girl became this fiercely determined young lady in just the blink of an eye.