last day, first day

don’t run from it. instead, run straight into it. smack into the center of it. full speed. and laugh at the absurdity of it all swirling around you. peers, friends, co-workers, parents, employers, and children.

let yourself be in the middle of it.

if you do, you might catch something, a glimpse of something much larger than awkwardness or heat or sugar induced headaches. if you let it swirl around you, you just might see a three year old watch a woman on stage. you just might see that connection through melancholy sound, through beauty of voice and the wailing of a saw that sounds like a sob caught in mid-throat. if you let yourself see this, you just might remember the strength of connection found through expression in young eyes.

for that, i am thankful for this last day. to come full circle back to the playground where i now witness the future of this little girl, taking in music, knowing one day it will be her up there on stage.

and with that, i walk away.

balance beam monday. first day for you. first day for me. ready set go.

conversations come up in the most awkward of places. feelings come out at the grocery store in two and three minute bursts. i don’t know what to do with the information. he hands me thoughts like grenades. conversations find me kneeling beside one of those gigantic car carts that he steers with me down each aisle (yes, i am one of those moms, so get the hell outta my way!) conversations find me in the freezer aisle with nothing to say but ‘i hear you.’

and so i buy cake.

it’s not so much parenting. it’s mothering. not just him as he clings to my leg like a barnacle as i trudge through the deep waters weighed down by his fear of everything new. i am his ship, when once so recently i was the anchor docking us safely, now we are just starting out on our adventure and the water grows colder and more unfamiliar the further from shore we venture. it’s exciting though, and i know we are on course. we are just learning our way. together.

it’s not so much parenting as it’s me just catching my breath as he hugs me. it’s the strongest biggest hug i’ve ever received. it took my breath away, quite literally. and i knew how scared he was. how everything, absolutely everything was unfamiliar, and he was completely alone surrounded by strangers.

he is so brave, this boy of mine.

it’s not so much the parenting, but the remembering of who i was. just like him. the pale yellow blanket. the one i napped with at age four. the soft one worn thin from worry and love. but mostly from worry.

it’s not so much me being the grown up, mothering him. but finding the balance as i mother my own self.

“hey, i have something i want you to keep safe for me until i come back after nap time.” it peaked his curiosity, away from the newness of everyone, all kids, all teachers and class rooms, entire worlds .

“it’s my heart. keep it in your pocket until i see you okay?” this fear that i won’t come back, it taunts him like a nightmare cackling from the darkness of his closet. this fear that i swallowed as a child too, this abandonment is something we share equally.

my heart fits in the palm of his hand, it’s a rock we found together on a hike on a really beautiful day. i slipped the heart rock into his pocket and kissed his palm before saying goodbye. i walked to my car. started the engine. and promptly broke down in tears.

the afternoon was hot, and he rode all the way home with a secret. time spent away. stories not shared. he rode all the way home before spilling the contents of his pocket. “i have a bruise” he pointed to his knee, a big scrape across it. he fell on the playground. the blood was dried. he probably got up and just kept going, not wanting to draw attention to himself in the face of newness. because this is what he does. 

“hey momma, i have your heart.” he tells me as he fishes around his deep pockets. he pulls it out and adds “i found a tiny heart on the playground.” and from the depth of his pocket he pulls a tiny tiny rock, one he spied with his little eye, and it’s in the shape of a heart.

this makes me feel so completely happy. today was a good day of firsts. when he, alone on the playground, looked down to find comfort in nature’s treasures. today, my heart and his heart were together afterall.