No Braids, No Uniform, No Disney Lunchbox

Today was the first day of school. Back to school means a lot of different things to different people. It means school supplies and backpacks, school buses and traffic. It means new clothes, new shoes and sometimes new haircuts. For me it means my baby is getting older.

The first day of school has ALWAYS been just another reason for me to have a good cry. For those of you who know me… I mean REALLY know me; you know that in reality, that doesn't take much. I'm not unstable, depressed or crazy – well, maybe a little crazy- but I am just one of those people who can cry over a good movie, or even a Publix commercial. (DON'T LAUGH unless you've seen it and haven't gotten the least bit teary-eyed!
www.youtube.com/watch?v=jHkqGgPpQOE
But the first day of school is a little different. It always opens the floodgates for all kinds of emotions and usually accounts for me crying all the way to work, randomly fighting tears throughout the day and crying some more in retrospect when the day is finally over.

In August of 1997 I pulled out of the parking lot of Harvest Christian Academy, after leaving my little girl in the hands of strangers. I never imagined that any other first day of school would be as hard as that one! She was headed off to Kindergarten. As independent as she was – even at only four years old and just under 35 pounds, she didn't even want me to walk her in. She only relented to my begging after realizing that there was no one else to carry in her cubby crate.

Fast forward ten (what should have been) long years…. And believe me when I tell you that almost every year – the first day of school is almost (not quite) but almost as hard as the day I left her at Kindergarten. The first day of middle school ran a very close second until last year, the first day of high school. But every year is hard.

Today I woke her up and true to her nature (most of the time) she looked at me with one eye open, a slight smile and said "Hi Momma." I could have sworn I saw my gapped tooth child through the face of the teenaged girl who I still think of as my baby.

Pulling up to the high school I was reminded of last year, her first day as a freshman. The kids all looked so much bigger and older then. The boys looked like men and the girls were looking for the boys. The parking lot full of kids that drove themselves to school and only a handful of parents dropping their children off. This year didn't look much different, but my daughter looked a little more the part than she did last year.

She and her best friend jumped out of the car the second I came to a stop. With no cubby crate she didn't need my help getting into the school. She kissed my cheek. "Bye Momma!" she said with a true twinkle in her eye and a grin on her face. As she walked away from the car I saw her, my tiny little girl in braids, a school uniform and a 101 Dalmatians lunchbox. Smiling, happy and talking. Not a care in the world, just headed for a new adventure. I blinked and looked again to see my nearly grown daughter. Now taller than me, hair that had taken 30 minutes to straighten, jeans, a t-shirt, a little bit of eye liner and no Disney lunch box.

Maybe it's that she is an only child. Maybe it's that I am a tiny bit protective. Maybe it's that the years have literally felt like minutes and there are some that I really just wish I could have back – even if it were for only a moment.