I am the parent of a high school graduate. And if you must know, that statement makes me feel...a little bit old. I was sitting in the front yard, watching the sun set this evening, absorbing the peace and thinking about my life. I looked around my yard, my eyes pausing on the young oak tree we planted last year. I imagined it bigger, with long branches and leaves that offer shade to the entire front of the house. And I imagined little people--children--playing Barbies and trucks in the dirt at its base. These little people would dig holes in the dirt, perhaps filling these pools with water from the hose, they might draw with chalk on the driveway, or ride big wheels on the sidewalk. They would sit beside me and ask me questions; Why is the sky blue? What makes a cloud? Why do birds eat worms? I'd snuggle them close, answering each eager question with patience and love. We might lie on our backs on top of the grass and find shapes in the clouds. Dragons, fish, a dog, maybe even an annoying sibling. On bad weather days we might stay indoors and bake cookies, or bread. We could read stories, crochet, finger paint...
And these little people would call me Grandma. And it would be the sweetest sound I'd ever heard.
As my graduate ushers in a new phase of life, so do I. I'm growing up. I think, for the first time in my life, I'm okay with that. I'm looking forward to new experiences. I'm reaching the point where I can see the end of that tremendous task known as child-rearing. It's almost time to watch my children raise their own. Before I know it, I'll be sitting in an audience watching my last child receive a diploma. And I'll wonder where the time went. But I won't regret that it's gone.
I guess this is the way it's supposed to be. This day is just the beginning of many bittersweet days to come. There is a quiet peace surrounding my mind, and a pleasant ache in my heart. I'm not euphoric, nor am I depressed. I am content.
