Today I graduated from preschool. After six nearly consecutive years of having a child or two in our chosen preschool, my time there has suddenly ended. My youngest child has finished up pre-K, and is looking forward to kindergarten in the fall.
It is a bittersweet day, and I find myself looking back over my shoulder to make sure I haven’t left anything or anyone behind. Ahh, but I have. I have left behind half-day school, crazy clothing choices (for him, not me!), friendly familiar faces passing in the halls every morning, Bible stories and prayer in the classroom.
We have a history, this preschool and I, that transcends any one child’s experience. It was there that I made some dear friends, watched my children first stretch their wings and grow in confidence apart from me, and grew in my own confidence as a mom. And now, this 10-minute drive from my house will be history, for the most part. The door has closed. A chapter has ended.
Sure, I will see some benefits from this preschool graduation. My day will be simplified with all three kids at the same school. I will have more free time available. And, of course, there is the joy that comes from seeing my child move on to the next stage in his development.
And so I look forward, celebrating my son’s new adventure as he heads off to the “big school” with his brother and sister. He will make new friends and learn and grow and wear his uniform and do his best. And I will cheer him on and encourage him every way I can. And maybe I, too, will make new friends and learn and grow. I’ll do my best.