Over four years have passed since I first met this little boy of mine. Hard to believe.
I glance over at his eager little face, watching his unmistakable interest in the scene in front of us. "A couple months and that will be you, kiddo." He's heard this before."I know, Mom." I continue with the explanation, even though it's a repeat. "I’ll be standing here at the gate like all these other parents, waiting for you."
Genuine curiousity prompts what I’m about to ask: "Jake, when you’re in school, do you think you’ll miss me or be sad? Or do you think you’ll just love being with a new teacher in a new class?" His face is still towards the school yard in front of us. "Mom. I will love it. I can’t wait." This is good. I’m glad. I’m thankful he’s nothing but excited. And yet… Almost like he’s heard my thoughts, he turns his face to mine and says “Mom. You know what? I will love it, and I won’t be sad, but I WILL really miss you. And when I’m at school I will make you things and bring them home for you."
I hear his words of reassurance and I can’t help but wonder which one of us isn’t yet ready for the change that September will bring.