And Then I Read the Note

I fully understand that being a woman makes me somewhat of an emotional creature by nature. If you are a man, you may want to stop reading here. For you women, I think you will understand the emotion involved in what I am about to say. Women are programmed to cry at sappy movies and heart felt commercials. We naturally cry at weddings and funerals. We cry when we are overjoyed, sad, and sometimes even when we are mad. I understand this is our make-up although, I don’t always like it. I used to feel that I had my emotions under control. I don’t know if age or life has allowed them to flow more freely in recent years, but they certainly surface more easily than they used to.

School starts tomorrow, and the past week has been full of those one and two tear moments. The kind of moments when your eyes well, and maybe one or two tears spill over before you can compose yourself. I shed a tear for Dylan about a week ago when the anxiety of starting a new school seemed to be weighing in. I shed a tear or two Sunday when I learned that God had taken care of even the small worries I had about Logan’s school year because his Sunday school teacher is going to be helping him in the lunch room this year. I shed a tear or maybe three when we left his IEP meeting where it was so obvious how much everyone in the room wanted what was best for Logan, and was willing to do anything to make his year as successful as possible. I shed a tear when Dylan picked out his very own locker because he seemed so grown up. Then, another when we dropped all of their school supplies off at their classrooms. While we were in Logan’s room his teacher slipped a note into his book bag and said, “This is for you, mom, don’t read it unless you are ready to cry.” Thinking I had already shed my tears along the way, I decided to pull it out and read it. I thought I had shed my tears, and then I read the note titled “The First Day of School”.

I gave you a wink and a smile as you came into my room that day. For I know how hard it is to leave and know your child must stay. You’ve been with him for five years now and have been a loving guide. But now, alas, the time has come to leave him at my side. Just know that as you drive away and tears down your cheeks may flow. I’ll love him as I do my own and help him learn and grow. So, please put your mind at ease and cry those tears no more; for I will love him and take him in when you leave him at my door. – Jaime Solley

As I read these words, I don’t have to tell you that a river of tears flowed down my cheeks. I cried for the unknowns the year holds, for the kindness of his teacher’s heart, and for the loss of no longer having any children at home. I cried at the realization that I will no longer be continually at his side to make sure he gets up when he falls, his pants get pulled up straight, or to make sure everyone understands everything he says. I cried for him and I cried for myself. I sat in my chair and really let the tears come until there were no more to muster up. So, tomorrow when I drop him off at the doorway of his bright and cheerful Kindergarten classroom I am hoping that I have cried all of the necessary tears. I am hoping that the morning will be full of smiles, excitement and snapshots. But, I will probably put a few Kleenex in my purse, you know, just in case.