We had the honor of attending back to back academic award ceremonies and all was well. Both Joshua and Kingsley were decorated with accolades marking the hard work of the year. School is effectively over and I'm feeling some sort of a way. It isn't what you think. I am anxiously awaiting the change in our daily routines. I call it, "the hush of the rush." When mainstay routines of the school year fall to the wayside in favor of the slow drawl of southern summer days. I'm a mom who has grown to love summers with the kids. I cherish it. I'm excited and hopeful for the new beginnings that the fall will usher in. But in the immediate I have an admission. I'm actually sad. I sat at both ceremonies plastering a prideful smile outside. While inside, there was a dull heartache that I couldn't shake.
This particular coming of summer marks the end of a very special era. My youngest has finished elementary studies and is now making me a mother of two middle schoolers. And I'm excited for her. But I am sitting in, and telling, this truth. I am sad. This tide has solidified the notion that for me, motherhood is a series of advancements, mixed with a few setbacks and a whole lot of letting goes. I'm not always ready. It's sort of like being pushed down a water slide that you've previously discounted the steepness.
Teachers, mavens of didacticism, walk a thin line between mere mortals and mythical creatures to the bright eyed and restless. If you think back over your own experiences I'm sure that you can conjure fresh recollections of the most minute details of those that crossed your path. For me, I can remember how a particular teacher would hold a book while she read to us. Each turn of the page dazzling with the alluring tone and tempo of her voice. To children, teachers are unearthly. Spotting them outside of the classroom could be likened to finding the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. Their presence and legends hold us captives for lifetimes.
Today, my sadness is steeped in the fact that this time will never come again. The finality of it is daunting. But as I look over the landscape of the last six years, I am incredibly grateful. In our time during elementary we were outfitted with a dream team of educators for both of them. All different in approach and temperament. All dazzling in their inherit abilities to inspire the best in my children. They not only showed up for them everyday, they loved them beyond the books. I've tried to impart to each of them that we will be forever grateful and I can only hope that our sentiments hold weight in their hearts.
You see, they created a safe haven for me as well. I am being pushed from the nest into parts unknown. There's no doubt that the tides will continue to change and we can do nothing but be continually ready. But I would be remiss if I didn't stand in the truth of my feelings of the moment. This transition is hard not because of where we're going, but because of who we are leaving behind. I firmly believe that if the universe can present us with such a vivid and meaningful past, then our future will be filled with the brightest illuminations. We are wishing all of our educators the best as we move on and hoping they never forget us. The imprint they've individually made on us is everlasting. Simply, thank you.
