One year ago I looked out my front door and was jarred at a sight I had forgotten: A group of mothers stood waving goodbye to their children who were boarding the school bus for their first day of school. I was struck by how long ago I would have been there, too.
A few days earlier, I had said goodbye to my youngest child for her final semester of college. That was the Last First Day of School, for me. Over each of the past 24 years, someone in my household -- three children, three foreign exchange students, and even my husband-- had, in late August, walked out the door and stepped onto a bus or a plane or into a car in search of their education.
Looking at that group of mothers waving to the school bus, I saw them linger as the bus disappeared into the distance. They stayed there for awhile as if they did not know what to do now.
I feel that way too, this year. No more mornings of sack lunches, hunting for backpacks, or racing to make it to three different bus stops within a few minutes’ time; no deliveries of forgotten homework or gym clothes. No more parent-teacher conferences or softball games or graduation ceremonies.
I miss the anticipation of the First Day of School. Now, it’s my turn to stand back and watch my graduates make their way in the world. There will be more Firsts to celebrate, I am sure.
I’m Susan Goldberg and that’s my Perspective.
