Sometimes the words don’t come as I would have them.
They feel so inadequate amid the enormity of the moment.
And so it was on Saturday night.
As I found myself in front of a church of 700, I realized that I could not possibly convey the feelings that had moved in me.
The words would never do the moment justice.
The confirmation of my choice, the sureness in my heart would fill the void of vocabulary.
They’re beginning the walk away.
No longer toddling towards me arms out stretched.
I find myself staring at their backs as they lug their own bags, carry their own loads.
The season of parenting those whose physical needs are great is now over.
Sid makes dinner for us each week more nights than I do.
Audrey doesn’t need reminders to brush her hair, say her prayers or wear a coat.
The days of bathing children are finished as Ellery spends as long as she can in tepid water, lathering her hair and singing songs to her babies splashing in the ocean of suds.
I am supposed to tell you that I am ready for the season to have passed,
that I am embracing this next stage of my life and theirs.
But in reality, I never thought at 38 that my years of giving birth and nurturing babies would be complete.
Maybe I should have.
There is always an end why shouldn’t mine have been today?
My heart knows the joy I have here in this moment.
The beautiful ladies who fill my days with laughter and tears,
the children that teach me how to be a better person.
And in that I will be grateful.
When you are nine years old and all you want in the world is for both your parents to attend your student led parent teacher conference.
And when the stars align, you feel like the luckiest girl in the world to have your parents rapt attention for thirty minutes. You have all the time in the world as you talk about the things at school that make you happy.
That right there is a good day.