September 4, 2012
There goes my heart, wrapped in blue plaid and trying to look tall, and unaffected, and big; like a kindergartner. She has missing teeth, and heavy shoes, and her eyes are wide with new.
I helped her get dressed this morning, I helped her with the buttons so small. Her eager hands flew up and finished the row, because she knew how, and I knew that she knew how, but I needed to help her. Because somehow in that moment, I was taken to 20 years from now when I’ll help her get dressed for her wedding day, and the floor shifted under me, and my life became a puddle. A puddle of thoughts colliding with memories of buttons and first day jitters.
And there I was standing in the middle of that memory and it was so brilliant and sunny, with the colors vivid and strong.
Just like that, she’s grown up.
Her life has been dotted with these moments of growing, first sleeping through the night, first foods, first trip to the park, first airplane ride, first stitches, first day of preschool…But this one, this marker, forces me to stop, reflect, and not take any of it for granted.
She’s big now. Not too big, but big enough. And she’s strong, and smart, oh my gosh, is she smart. And now I have to stay back, let her go, and pray that I’ve done all I can to prepare her for this part.
Happy first day of Kindergarten, Berlyn! You’re going to crush it.