When I became a mother almost 14 years ago, I didn’t think about high school. I was so focused on feeding and bathing and figuring out how to raise this little bundle of boy. Now, he is picking his courses for Grade Nine.
I have no idea where those years went. Two siblings joined him and I became a whirling dervish of laundry and groceries and swimming lessons and hockey and dance.
I have some flashbulb memories. Like my middle guy and I having the stomach flu on Christmas day. Our first trip to Disney. My oldest guy singing at an Open Mic at age 7. My daughter starting Grade One. The boys’ Irish dance team winning the North American Championships.
But I also remember the routine of homework and dance after school. The weeknight dinners. The conversations in the van. The excited sharing of report cards and projects and birthday invitations.
I hear that the high school years go by really, really fast. So I have to brace myself now because I know that driving cars and moving out comes next.
My only hope is that they always remember to be brave and kind. That they follow their heart and their moral compass.
As Johann Wolfgang von Goethe once said, “There are only two lasting bequests we can hope to give our children. One of these is roots, the other, wings.”
May all our children soar to the highest heights and remember that they are always welcome home.
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