I remember the day I took J to first grade. My very last to begin their first day of first grade. I was fine, really. Until I walked past the kindergarten classrooms and looked above the door to his classroom from last year, and read: Butterfly Factory.
The tears, the flood of emotion. I ran to my car, it couldn't have been seconds before I was crying uncontrollably. I should be able to handle this. I have done this three times. But alas, this was the worst.
G started 7th grade that day as well, I remember when it was he who was beginning his venture in education, public at that. I knew that he was no longer all mine. I had to put aside all the selfishness that I was so good at, and let others enjoy this creation, the beauty of his life.
There would be no more snack, nap, caterpillars in the classroom. Why did I blink?
What happened that I was sending my fourth off to first grade, it all happened so fast.
'Will you, um, marry me?' I haven't seen you in weeks! You don't look happy or excited about the prospect of our marriage! You're asking me to give up my - my freedom, my joie de vivre for an institution that fails as often as it succeeds? And why should I marry you anyway? I mean, why do you wanna marry me? Besides some bourgeois desire to fulfill an ideal that society embeds in us from an early age to promote a consumer capitalist agenda?