This morning I lined my four children along the front walk of our house to take some small reminder of the moment, a photograph.
Upon glancing at the result, while sitting at my work desk, I marveled at the four radiant creatures that are my children.
Such a short time has passed since the August we last performed this ritual, a short time and yet a long time also. It’s hard to say. Almost like how much they’ve grown in a year’s time. They still look the same, and yet different… of increasing beauty, while their childish “cuteness” is being rendered by hard maturity.
As I let my glance turn backward, I feel a touch of melancholy… that so much of my children’s lives have already passed.
My eldest is eleven, straining into her teens and burgeoning adulthood. She is so mature for her age, and yet still such a little girl to me. So it is for the rest of my sweet ones. They are babbling brooks that continue to flow, while remaining so much themselves.
The first day of school is one of those musty, saccharine-sweet aspects of our culture… and far more solemn that the last day of school.
It is a new for new beginnings. Yet also a way to mark the time and onward progression from childhood into youth and toward novitiate adulthood.
So I bid my children a blessed first day, and look forward to greet them upon their return.