20 Apr

In the mornings, I drop Kenna off at school.  We have a ritual…unbuckle, “I hope you have a wonderful Monday (or whatever day it is”, “learn alot”, then an “I love you fight”.  I say I love you she says it back, but we get louder and louder until the helper opens to door for Kenna to hop out.  It’s just our little thing, no matter how shitty the morning was.  Just like our nighttime ritual it’s something that I look forward to, something that I cherish and something that is just US.

But what makes me think is once she jumps out of the car and the door is shut behind her she walks all alone into the cafeteria.  Sometimes, like today, she’ll look back at me and wave feverishly until I wave back, other mornings she’ll just walk on in.  It’s sad to me.  Knowing that she’s walking in that room, filled with her peers and older kids, all alone.  She never seems phased by it, she knows what she’s doing now, not a lost little 1st grader.  She’ll come in and put her backpack by the wall with the others, then go stand in line for breakfast.  She’ll then find a table and chair that is open, hopefully with her friends.  But the sight of her walking in, her hot pink backpack bouncing up and down, just makes me think that she’s not a baby anymore.  I usually get teary when she turns around to wave, just that little gesture shows me that although not a baby, she still may need me a little bit longer.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s