I didn’t expect that I would write you a letter on your first day of Kindergarten. I also did not expect to be so emotional on your first day. I did not burst into tears, but I did feel a welling up in my heart as I watched you walk with guarded confidence away from me and into your school. You did not freak out, you did not cry, you did not cling to me. I did not want you to do those things and I’m glad you didn’t, but I suddenly felt so…un-needed is not the right word, but the closest thing I could think of.
I walked in after your class and watched quietly as you took off your backpack, sweatshirt and hung them in your locker. I couldn’t help myself, I hopped forward and said “Let me help you.” I got out the markers, box of tissues and Ziploc bags we were asked to bring. I piled them carefully in your arms and told you to give them to the teacher. I stood back and watched as the precarious pile fell to the floor. I held back the urge to leap forward and help you again. You leaned down and piled the fallen items again. No frustration, no tears, no need for my help. You handed the items to your teacher and gave her your name, loud enough for her to hear, not shy. I felt my eyes sting and my heart clench and I was astounded.
You are a little boy. A little boy who can walk into your school and find your locker without my help. You are growing so fast.
You were a baby yesterday.
From the moment you were born you’ve been growing so fast. The newborn months gone in a flash. The toddler in you is gone, when? When did it slip away? You are growing up and away from me. And this is the first step. The first step away from me, and again my eyes are stinging and my heart is clenching.
I love you little bug.