The First Seven Years of Letting Go

We only realize now that you’re leaving grade school, having spent the last five years of your life there, that the whole time, your going to school has been, for us,  a process of gradually letting go.  It had  started from the time you were born, and every day, every season, every year, we let go some more…

But school was the first big one.

You were four years old, my sweet and innocent Matthew, when you first ventured out into the world. First day of school: first time by yourself out there in the hands of strangers and surrounded by strangers, in an even stranger place -- it must have been scary for you. But let me tell, you, my child, it was harder perhaps, for us, as it was for you, to let you go.

School was a time of firsts: first time to wear a school uniform, to carry your own back pack… You learned how to write and you learned how to read. You learned to recite nursery rhymes and sing songs and sharpen your pencils. You learned to  make friends, follow the rules, stay in line, wait your turn, raise your hands to speak, say “Thank you”, “Good morning”, “Goodbye” and learned the value of recess! And yes, you learned to hold back your tears.

You were in kindergarten when I was late picking you up one time. I imagine how scared you might have been, then, of being left behind not knowing if your mom was ever going to show up. You held your ground, stayed strong and fought back the tears until you were in the car with me. Only then did the dam break, and the tears flowed from your little five-year-old heart. It broke my heart, too.

When you were in elementary school, you learned  to button your shirts and shorts, tie you shoes, prepare your breakfast and do your homework. Then, we let go some more, and let you ride the bus.

You went on field trips without us and learned a million new things inside the classroom,  in the cafeteria and in the playground. Oh, the loads of sand from the playground  you brought home inside your shoes everyday! And not only sand, but fun (and not-so-fun, perhaps) memories of grade school as well.

It wasn’t until the last few months of fifth grade that I decided it was time to leave you at the bus stop, and then, later, let you walk by yourself to there. It was hard to do, because the world today is full of bad people. But you were okay, and so I was okay.

And now you are leaving Fox Trail Elementary.

And how could you not be sad, my child, to leave a place, after spending the last five years of your life there? How is it that I am the one who is sad that you are?

Perhaps, with you it is true, that there is little or no sadness on your part in going compared to what your Papa and I have in letting go.

(This scrapbook was made for you, to remind you of the years that have gone. It is a labor of love from Mama to you.)

P.S.

The above was the dedication I wrote on the first page of the scrapbook I made for Matt.