My eighteen-year-old “baby” graduates from high school tomorrow. I’ve been surprisingly okay all week. No pangs, no tightening of the throat, no water works.
Until yesterday.
I was driving home from the gym which passes right by the field where the ceremony will take place, and there it was: the podium where the kids go up to receive their diplomas. And there they were: Jab and Gulp – the two friends that I’ve come to know very well (in this journey of being a mom). One after the other, making a bee-line for my heart and my throat. You’d think I had just seen the platform where there was to be a public hanging.
Jab and Gulp. They were there the first night I saw the empty bassinet next to our bed, signaling that our one-month old had graduated into a bigger crib in a room of her own. They were there when I heard the sweet melancholic melody in a restaurant hours after dropping our daughter off at summer camp. They were there when I watched her wind through the security line at Logan Airport last summer, on her way to spending six weeks as an au-pair in Spain.
Jab and Gulp. They show up unannounced and uninvited. But I’m onto these guys. I know that if I don’t resist them and allow myself to feel them completely, they swoop right on out, just as quickly as they came – melting in the presence of pure witnessing, pure compassion.
Tomorrow, I’ll be prepared for everything. I’ll have my hat, sunscreen, camera, water bottle…and the biggest box of Kleenex I can find.
hi Stephanie – my water works are working well – just read your sweet thoughts – I am right there with you….I plan to wear my sunglasses tomorrow! See you there – and congratulations!!
love, Carole
Oh yeah, how could I forget the sunglasses! Thanks for piping in Carole. I’m thinking it’s time to gather round the fire…soon! xoxo