On Monday, my son graduated from Kindergarten and I bawled my eyes out.
I usually always cry a little at school performance-type events. Something about the nervous, unsure excitement of kids being on stage gets me. But I was surprised at how emotional this graduation was for me.
One by one the kids walked across to meet another and walk on stage together. Guthrie was near the end, so I was already a little worked up at the sweetness of the other little people. But when I saw his face, it all came crashing in - how hard this move has been for him, how much he's needed to learn being in public school, making friends and dealing with adult's expectations (and moods). It was a lot. I'm constantly questioning how protective to be with my kids, and how much to let go at what age. This experience felt like it was needed for him, and the learning would have happened regardless of whether we were in Colorado or New York. He needed to learn about himself in relation to other people. And he did it, even when it felt really, really hard for him. There were illnesses related to his process, lots of yelling, anger, tears and laughs. But he made it and he's really proud of himself.
There is no end, of course, on this journey of life, but something happened on Monday. There was a certain resolution and recognition to all that it took to move across country. Because of it there's a new ability to shift the gaze forward. And all I can think is
I have arrived.