The Last First Day of Preschool
My last first day of preschool. He was ready, so excited to put his little backpack on and go. He went right into the classroom, pulled up a chair and got busy with the toys. There was no hesitation and no fear, just happiness.
I'm so proud of him. A year ago, we couldn't leave him in the nursery at church or at the childcare center at the YMCA without him crying so hard that they had to come and get one of us. It is amazing how much they change in the space of a few short months...and how their changes affect our life as a family.
I really can't say much more without becoming maudlin. It's just been one of those days when I feel more than a little weepy. Leaving Will was harder for me than it was for him, and then thinking of 9/11 today compounds my grief in addition to forcing me to reflect on the years that have passed and the very good life that we have been blessed with in these years. There are plenty of people who died on 9/11 and have given their lives in these intervening years and will never know the joy of watching a child mature. Driving past Old Dominion University this morning, I watched the kids crossing the streets, rushing to class and wondered what they remember from 9/11--they were probably no more than 10 years old at the time.
They grew up too, I guess.
