First child’s first day

Eve was standing beside my bed, willing me to wake, well before my earlier-than-I’d-like alarm went off. She was up.

Sleepily, I turned on the coffee and stirred up some chocolate chip pancakes. I cut them into heart shapes, at her request. She left just one bite on her plate. She was full.

I sat on her bed as she dressed, keeping my hands to myself as much as possible. I brushed her hair. She brushed her teeth. She’d already made her bed. She was ready.

Oh so ready.

Still in my pajamas, hair and teeth not brushed, I was not ready. Not ready at all.

We drove to the school. She skipped down the sidewalk.

She led the way to her classroom. She put her bag in her locker. She sat down at her desk. She kissed us goodbye.

I left. I cried.

Not as many tears as I would have thought. Not the worst-case blubbering scenario my husband said he imagined. But I cried, mourning the loss of my baby, the passing of time.

I wondered if I’d done everything I intended in those first five years, prepared her for this new journey, given her an adequate foundation.

I sat in the kitchen with my cold coffee, pondering how we’d gotten all the way to the school doors from a hospital room.

And then I found Owen on the family room floor, face down in a giant pile of chocolate chips. He’d snagged the bag I’d left on the counter without me noticing and poured every last one on to the carpet, creating his own chocolate buffet. I picked him up and wiped him off, scooped up about 500 chips, and took comfort in the fact that the house won’t be all that quiet today.

She’s up (for it).

She’s full (of enthusiasm and curiosity).

She’s ready.

One thought on “First child’s first day

  1. I cried reading this. And then I started thinking about Murray starting on September 3rd, and I cried all over. Bittersweet, I tell ya!

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