Grab the Kleenex. When my new friend, Audrey Wilson Andrysick (Audrey Wilson Coaching) sent a few of us mom’s this poem, I started tearing up at the first 3 words. Lin Eleoff calls this the sappy gene.
Again, for the second year, my son is off to college today. This time it’s a little different from the first year in that I know I will be fine (the person I was most worried about the first year, lol!), he will be fine (and he was – more than fine), and that my husband and I will continue on our path of rediscovering the depth of our own relationship – just the two of us again, after so many years of the 3 of us. But it’s also different because he is moving into his own place with friends…off campus…rent, utility bills, grocery shopping...the next steps to really rocking his own life - adult baby steps.
For all of you who are seeing your children off to Day Care for the first time, Pre-school, Kindergarten, First Grade, High School (you get the picture), enjoy the following poem and remember to enjoy every first – it all goes by very quickly, and soon you will be wondering where the years went.
And for all of you who are seeing your kids off to adult-hood, enjoy and give thanks that you’ve done such a good (enough) job to enable this beautiful transition.
(This poem was originally written by Mary W. Abel and posted in Dear Abby)
Don’t forget the Kleenex.
"Hold fast the summer. It is the beauty of the day and all it contains. The laughter and work and finally the sleep. The quiet. Oh September, do not put your weight upon my mind. For I know he will be going. This son of mine who is now a man — he must go. Time will lace my thoughts with joyous years. The walls will echo his “Hello.” His caring will be around each corner. His tears will be tucked into our memory book. Life calls him beyond our reach — to different walls. New faces, shiny halls, shy smiles, many places. Greater learning — he must go. But wait, before he leaves, be sure he knows you love him. Hide the lump in your throat as you hug him. He will soon be home again — but he will be different. The little boy will have disappeared. How I wished I could take September and shake it, for it came too soon I must look to the beauty of each new day, and silently give thanks."