My son just left for his first day of middle school. I thought I was ready for it; I thought I wanted him to go back to school. The house hasn’t been quiet for two months, and I thought I’d enjoy the peace. But it’s too quiet now; all I hear is the hum of the fan in the next room, and the ticking of the clock above my head. How apt!
Where has all the time gone?
I cried a little before sitting down to write this. My mind took me back to the days when my baby was learning to walk. His nose crinkled when he grinned, exposing all four of his teeth, as he staggered across the room. When his diapered bottom hit the floor, he giggled. He didn’t seem discouraged by falling, but rather pleased because he’d made it as far as he did.
I hope he never loses his glass-half-full perspective. He’s going to need it more now than he ever has.
I didn’t get to say goodbye before he left. Not the way I had wanted to. His friend came over to get him, and there is to be no lovey-dovey business in front of friends. I understand that and I respect his boundaries, but things felt incomplete. The kid came over twenty minutes earlier than planned, and so we were cut short to begin with, then my son said, “Bye, Mom!” and walked out the door without looking back.
I called him on his cell phone to tell him I love him and wish him a good day. I thought it’d be OK as school hadn’t yet started. He abruptly informed me that he’s not allowed to use the phone on campus and that he was shutting it off. “Bye, Mom!” Bzzzz….
So here I sit on The Big Day, tears streaming down my cheeks, unmotivated to do any work. Good thing I’m allowed to set my own hours. I know I sound terribly clingy, but I’m really not. Not as much as this post might suggest, anyway. I certainly won’t tell my son that I cried or any of that. I just thought that writing about this might help me feel better.
I was wrong.