The Last First Day

Yep.  I can’t help getting a little choked up.  Today Will starts his Senior year, which means that this is the last time I will take a “first day of school” picture of him.  I can remember so clearly his kindergarten picture, in front of my parents’ house in Archbold.  He was smaller even than Quinn is now.  Thirteen years gone by since then?  How did we get to this point so fast?

I feel I should be writing something momentous.  An Ode, maybe.  “Ode on a Child Full Grown” or “Elegy for a Small Boy.”  But instead, I’m going to let this moment, like so many others, slip quietly by– marking it only in this mother’s heart.  That’s where I keep the real book of my children’s days– treasuring the moments, the words, the events in each of their lives.  They’re like waves, these moments, washing over you, shaping you.  But you can’t hold on to each one.  They come one after another, pounding, lapping, cleansing by turns.  If you dwell too much on one, you’ll miss the next.

After all, in this crazy family of ours, Will’s last first day doesn’t even take us to Quinn’s first first day (of kindergarten).  There’s so much to look forward to, for all of them.  And so many firsts and lasts yet to mark…


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