a season of lasts
The very idea of you, while we waited, was a thrill all its own. Joyful anticipation is how I would describe the feeling. We painted your nursery in what we felt was the perfect shade of pink, and it probably leans a bit Pepto Bismol now. We talked to your big brother about the arrival of “baby”. I culled through names and outfits and had everything ready. There was a lot of excitement about this new little human, coming soon.
Our dream arrived quickly, in screaming color, with sleepless nights and difficult days. But it was all the anticipation and excitement of watching you smile for the first time. Your first words. Your first steps. Those seemingly small things were really big ones for us. And with each day as you grew… so did our love for you.
I’m now convinced that the entire point of graduation and all the things leading up to this event is absolute exhaustion, so that by the time you arrive at this moment, you don’t have any feelings left. This, on top of the recent move to a new house, and a few other life events, has worn me out to the point of dissociation by default. Then suddenly, it was your last day of school. I went outside to take your photo next to the sign that we’ve had in our new yard. When you drove away with your friend, the tears just wouldn’t stop.
I thought it would get easier with each child. It doesn’t.
So to the great counterbalance of firsts… It’s the “lasts” that always take me by surprise. It was the quiet ways I didn’t even realize, slipping by in the fleeting landscape beyond a car window. Life tends to get a little jumbled in the everyday. Somewhere in between feeding the dogs and picking up the groceries, and the mundane moments… was the last time I picked you up. The final time I rocked you to sleep. And then, graduation was here.
I knew all these lasts were coming, but I wasn’t ready. I never will be. Those moments, the ones that passed us by, are the ones that feel so bittersweet.
Because I don’t even understand how we got here.
At some point, you grew from that tiny, screaming, beautiful bundle who demanded our attention 24/7 to an incredible human with a blindingly bright future. This is the next chapter for you, and I selfishly don’t want to turn the page. But I’m so grateful for every moment I’ve been given in the honor of being a part of it.
It’s been a season of lasts for us, but it’s also a season of exciting beginnings. It’s time to hand you your own book. And it’s with great anticipation that we can’t wait to watch you write your own chapters.
photo by light by iris
The days are very long. The years move way too fast. I’ve tried my very best to be present amid the moving chaos. Because the “lasts” are the ones that will take your breath away.
