It honestly feels like such a recent milestone, dropping Kevin off on his very first day of preschool. I remember being so worried that he would struggle against being left by me with a roomful of unknown kids and teachers in an unfamiliar setting. I braced myself for his tears and imagined him attaching himself to my leg and begging me not to leave him.
It didn’t play out that way at all. I took him into his new classroom where he happily scurried away from me, curious and ready to jump right in and explore, apparently seeing it as a new adventure. I quickly left before he could see me lose my composure, and went out to my truck and cried my eyes out. My baby! So grown up. I think that was the first time it hit me that from the moment they leave the womb, it’s a constant separating by degrees – separating of mothers and their babies. That’s what raising children is really about: teaching them, loving them utterly, providing for them, and watching them leave you by slow degrees.
Yesterday Kevin, that little preschooler, graduated from eighth grade. Oh, I know it’s only eighth grade – it’s not as big as his high school graduation will be or (god willing) his college graduation, but it was huge for this mother.
Before receiving his diploma, Kevin and a number of classmates were inducted into the National Junior Honor Society, which required that they have a GPA of 3.50 or above, good citizenship, and the fulfillment of community service hours.
Back at home . . .
My heart runneth over.