The first day for the last one

So Jeffrey started Kindergarten today. Sort of. Since the whole experience of riding a bus to school and the fact that they are going to school at all is such a big deal, the district has set in place a sort of baby-step procedure so, you know, the parents don't completely break down and lose it when they are sending their babies off to school. Me, I'm not one of those parents. Never was, never will be. No, I'm more than happy to send my shortlings off to earn their educations through our wonderful public school system, thankyouverymuch.

So while all the elementary, middle, and high-school students are boarding the buses on the first day of school while parents are snapping those must-have pictures, the kindergartners get to board the bus WITH mom and dad. Yes, all the parents get to hold their babies' hands all the way through the journey, from the moment they step on the bus, then off at school, in and out of the classroom, back on the bus, and off again back home. And for some children, this probably minimizes their trauma of having to leave mom and dad for the first time if they were never pre-exposed to preschool or something else that encourages independence and builds on their social behavior.

Seven years ago, I boarded the bus with Tommy. Two years later, it was me and Christopher. Two years ago, I went for a third time with Joey. Today, I would board the Kindergarten bus for the very last time with my last child, Jeffrey. Was it bittersweet? I suppose, maybe. Honestly, we waited for over an hour to see anything yellow coming over the horizon and down the hill and while it was a beautiful day, waiting for over an hour with a 5-year-old can get pretty old after not too long. Several times I had to assure Jeffrey that we did not, in fact, miss the bus, that it was just late and would be here soon enough. But soon enough kept passing by and well, you can imagine that after a while we got tired of watching the grass grow or even watching for the bright yellow school bus. By the time it did arrive, we weren't even looking for it and only recognized it by the diesel sound it made approaching our house. And approach and stop, it did, and we got on.

And then Jeffrey ditched me. He took the very first seat and there was no room for me because the toddler son of the bus driver was asleep in his car seat next to Jeffrey. "Jeffrey, don't you want to come and sit with me?" I asked him. "No," he said and that was that. I got several sympathetic smiles as I took the next empty seat four rows back on the opposite side. I was tired from having waited for the bus and keeping him entertained and getting nauseous quick as we turned left and right, stopped and went to pick up more kids and parents. To be honest, I didn't really care one way or another that he chose not to sit with me. I sat back and closed my eyes, thankful I didn't have to make small talk with my little partner and eager to hurry up and get there and get off the bus.

Once at the school and in the classroom, he was off doing his own thing, hardly eager to hold my arm and cling to my side like most of his classmates did. So you see, not only was I more than ready for him to start school; apparently he was ready as well.

Tomorrow, he will board the bus by himself and yes, I will be there to see him off and snap a picture. And on his last day of school, I'll snap a picture of him getting off the bus. And on all the days in between, I will see that light that has been dark for so long shining a little bit brighter. Because it will mean a new era for me when a year from now, I will have four children in school for full days. Full days. Five days a week.

And on that first day, it will be the first day of I-don't-know-what, but I know it will be very, very bright.