first grade

The house is uncharacteristically quiet for a weekday morning... Remy is off running errands with his daddy, the baby just went down for a nap and you Quinn... my biggest of big boys... you are at school having your first day of FIRST GRADE.  My mind is a swirl of worries about how you are doing, while my heart knows you are just fine.  Yesterday afternoon when we went to meet your new teacher & to check out the classroom, for the very first time I saw you being shy.  You have been stubborn & not wanted to talk to people plenty of times, but this was different.  This was a hold-a-little-tighter to mommy's hand and chin-tucked kind of whispery thing.  You know this is kind of a big deal, first grade and all.

First grade.
It feels so big, so grown up, so much the beginning of things.

 

In the early days when you were first born, I could not believe there would ever be a day when I would forget your baby smell.  Or how it felt to hold ALL of you in my arms.  These days your body is so long & strong & so very much your own.  Sometimes I think you must have hatched fully formed because there is no way my body could have ever contained you.

But still, on those restless nights when you just can't sleep, I squeeze myself into your narrow bed and snuggle up close.  Tangled together, my finger traces the contours of your face.  Willing to memory the slope of your forehead to nose, the gentle rise of your cheek & soft curve of your chin.  Locking it safely away for the not-so-far-away day when you will declare your need for more personal space.  When the mere presence of me no longer has the power to calm, soothe, sedate.  I only wish I could know beforehand when that last sweet good-night snuggle will be.

But now, you are in first grade.
You are smart.
You are capable.
You are at the beginning of a path that leads away from home.
You are exactly where you need to be.