We are at another ending. The end of a time. A time where one is a first grader. One is a pre-schooler. And one is two. And where doctor’s appointments are part of the daily calendar.
One is becoming. Becoming so many things. A second grader. One with an attitude. One with empathy. One with ideas. And smarts. He reads easily a couple grade levels above where he is. And he questions everything. He is one who doesn’t yet trust in his own abilities. One who I hope doesn’t get swallowed up by his fears. Or let them keep him from experiencing. And growing. Out of first grade… which I’ve so been in love with. With his teacher. With his class. With his learning. And his becoming.
One is growing. Up. In. Into himself. And learning how to manage allll of the emotions that have been hard to contain in the past. He still has shrieks and fits but they are becoming more manageable. “Graduating” from pre-school to pre-K. He is funny. And his mind works differently than I knew it would. He is sweet. And rarely afraid to try anything new. He is adventurous. And all over the place. And then, he’s the one, somehow, who currently has it the most “together”. Onto a new school he will go next year, but just an in-between step. Because we’re not yet sending him to “school” school. But he’s growing.
One is two. No longer a laid-back 18 month old. But instead, deep in the throes of the two-ti-tude. He has opinions. About everything. And he challenges me every other minute of his every waking hour. He doesn’t speak yet. But he still has a lot to say. And then. He’s snuggly. And easy. And goes with the flow. He grazes all day every day. Is the best and most adventurous eater of the bunch. He gets dragged around where ever the rest of us have to go. And he won’t yet go to preschool next year. He’s in that spot juuuuust in between. He’s two.
And I. I am, I suppose, cancer-free. It’s hard to think of myself that way. Because right now, I’m still in treatment. And the side effects will continue to reveal themselves over time. My hair is growing daily. My energy level feels good. I can’t believe that the whole school year has been somewhat consumed by this intruder. And then again, it feels like I’ve lived nine lifetimes since August. I, too, am becoming. A different person than I was before. Before cancer. Before motherhood. Before marriage. Before college. Before before.
So it feels like the end. The end of a time. Of a period in our lives. But really, it’s just a beginning, I suppose. And in a way, that makes so much sense. Because I used to think that commencement meant, “ending”. But it actually means a beginning or start. To have a fresh coat. To begin again. To start anew.
And so, as this school year draws to a close. A time that is for so many reasons, bittersweet, also feels it should be celebrated. Not for what has come to an end. But for what we have to look forward to. Every day from here on out.
