New School

Today we visited Abby's new elementary school. Not only is it new for us, it is new for all. Construction is complete and they’re giving tours so all students and their families can view the new digs.

I started to cry this morning when I told my dearest friend that our day would include a tour of the school. I now realize that this is one of those poignant intervals of my life and my response has been reflective, raw and guttural. (Note: I successfully buried all gutturals and purchased school supplies. The tears gave several stellar attempts at a visit but my stoicism prevailed.) (Note 2: Abby is over-the-moon thrilled about starting Kindergarten and wants to know why she can’t start now and why she can't wear her uniform now.)

When the tour started, I reached out to hold Abby's hand. I will be forever grateful that her hand met mine as I desperately NEEDED to hold hers. Her cool, smooth little palm nestled next to mine.

Technically we were shown around the school by a first grade teacher and I guess our legs carried us through. But my official tour guide was my emotion. It showed me Abby's curly blond head, bent in concentration, at a brand new Kindergarten table. It pointed out that my daughter would be using the cute little potties and short sinks in the bathroom all by herself. Then it drafted a picture of Abby, beads of sweat on her brow, hair flying as she ran off the playground. It reminded me that she would be one of the youngest, tiniest students in the entire school.

I held her hand as long as I could, until my brave, independent little girl did just what I’ve always hoped she would. She let go.