Preschool

My son Michael just started preschool. I know most people reading that sentence might not think much of it. That is great, they might think; a young boy starting his education. Yet to me, though the excitement was great, the lump in my throat was also. My little boy, who has spent the last four years sheltered from danger and mishaps by me, was actually on his own... for three hours a day. To me, this first day of school, with all that it encompasses - learning, making friends, respecting authority - was the first sign that independence is on the horizon.

When I kissed my baby and watched him walk up the stairs of a building that looked like it could swallow him, backpack slung so low on his little body, my thoughts were "Holy cow, it is starting." Now preschool, later college, his own place, his own family! Remembering my complaints throughout our days - "Why can't you leave me alone for 30 seconds? All I hear is '"Mommy, mommy!'" "Do you ever stop asking questions?" - all I wanted to do as my son walked into his classroom was wrap my arms around him and tell him how proud I am of him and how very much I love him. And then he turned around to face me, smiled and said, "Bye, Mommy. I love you. Please remember to pick me up." With tears in my eyes and a smile on my face, I assured him I would be right here waiting. Luckily, it is not complete independence... just yet!