This End of This Era

It’s the end of an era.

Someone said this when my last living grandparent passed in 2008. It still rings in my head, this idea that an entire era that was rich and real and colorful could cease to exist. 

But eras are continuously beginning and blossoming and ending. There’s nothing novel or unexpected about it. Life is slippery. Nothing lasts forever.

My daughter, the sweet, spirited, and sensitive soul who made me a mommy, starts kindergarten in a week.

I wish I didn’t have to dwell on this at all. I wish I could watch the end of my daughter’s babyhood without feeling so sentimental about it and reflecting on it and wishing I’d read her more books or taken her to the playground more times or taught her more about reading and math.

Because she couldn’t have been snuggled more or kissed more. She couldn’t have spent more hours playing pretend or holding her sister or babying her dolls or dressing up. She couldn’t have written on more walls. She couldn’t have used more trees in the name of art. She couldn’t have heard “I love you” more times.

I’m going to miss taking her to the gym and grocery store with me. I’m going to miss midday trips to the public library. I’m going to miss the long afternoons. Im going to miss a thousand things I cannot articulate. I’m going to miss my daughter’s babyhood.

In one week, she starts kindergarten. Her elementary career begins. I stopped myself from mentioning my sadness to her more than once today. Why should my sadness tamper her joy? In reality, her joy is my joy and it is much louder than my sadness. Dwelling on the past shadows the present.

Here marks my moment to move on. 

We’re going to live up this last week of my daughter’s babyhood. This end of this era. 

And then, we are going to step into kindergarten with all of the excitement welling up inside of us, including the distinct feeling that I, too, am going to kindergarten. The emotions are both familiar and distant, and just as real as they were 25 years ago. It’s a trip. 

Mostly, I love school and I know my daughter will love school as she loved preschool and I am so grateful that her babyhood happened and it will be her cushion as she navigates the waters of bullies and mean girls and power struggles and teachers who don’t understand and teachers who change something inside of you. 

So. Grateful.

This is day 28 of 30 consecutive days of blogging. I’m glad you’re along for the ride. If you liked this post, please share using the buttons below. If you have something to add, feel free to comment openly or anonymously.

To read more of my thoughts on womanhood, mindfulness and the creative life, please follow the blog or subscribe via feedburner.

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