Life's Moments

Alex graduated from preschool today. Under the shade of a big tree, on a hot and sunny morning, he climbed a little plastic slide and slid from preschool to kindergarten. Just like that.

Just like that, my little baby, not even born five years ago today, bid farewell to the first phase of his life.

And I am joyful he spent the first two years of his education where he did. His group of three teachers gave him just what he needed. Each, with their own unique personality, and in their own unique way, transformed him from a timid toddler, clinging to my leg, to a strong boy, eager to share the new discoveries he has made, anxious for more time for learning with his school friends.

Alex had a great morning. The graduation ceremony was preceded by an ended-of-the-year party, filled with bouncing, face painting, tattooing and cupcakes. He handed cards and gifts to his teachers with big hugs. But when the moment came, when he and his fellow classmates gathered on a blanket in the shade, he wasn't quite ready. His expression changed. I went over to him and he told me he wasn't going to do it. He wasn't going down that slide. And I know that feeling all too well. That moment before the bridge is crossed. That moment before the after.

But, when his name was called, he slid. He hugged his teachers, diploma in hand, and returned to his blanket to giggle with his friends. He took the slide, and has proudly told everyone he has encountered today that he has graduated, that he will go to kindergarten in the fall. And I am trying to slide along with him.

Ironically, Alex and I found ourselves at the high school today, just as the seniors took their "walk." I had a meeting. Alex came with me. At 2:30, everything stopped. "Send Me on my Way" was broadcast over the speakers. "What is happening?" I asked the teacher with whom I was meeting. "It's time for the Senior Walk," she said. "It's pretty emotional."

Today was the last regular day of school before exams. The seniors, dressed in caps and gowns, walked the hallways of the school as the music played, as the underclassmen and their teachers lined the halls and applauded. Some slapped the backs of each other, the hands of friends. A few held hands and a few girls wiped away tears. And yes, I am embarrassed to say, I found myself choked up and wiping away tears. I told myself it was the memory of my own graduation, that last poignant moment when all of life is before you and all of life seems so clear. I mean, I do not know a single one of those kids. My tears were for their moment, but not for them.

But, the reality is, my tears were for Alex. As I held him in my arms and explained that these big kids were graduating, just like he had graduated, the big kids transformed. No longer strangers. They were Alex with a voice grown deep. Nate with stubble on his chin. Jason holding hands with his girlfriend. Anna and Lindsey and Joey and Mary all still a tight circle walking close together. Josie and Colette looking like young artists. So powerful was my image, that even when I got home and tried to explain to Steve what a dork I really am, I found myself unable to speak, my throat tight, my eyes again welling with tears.

No one tells you that the path of motherhood is so very bittersweet.

Alex had a great, great day. He relished his new status as graduate. Without being asked, he surprised us and cleaned up two rooms. Before bed, he put away everything on his bedroom floor, without a word from me. He ate his dinner. He helped water the garden with a nonstop commentary about every plant and herb. Today was a delight. Today he was the best of his best. So grown up.

I told him so as I tucked him into bed... I told him it all... how five years ago I waited so anxiously for him to be born, how I could never have known what a wonderful, remarkable boy would come into my life, how proud I will always be of him, how quickly he is growing.

Well, Mommy, he said to me. Someday, I will be as tall as you and I will be like 30 or even 70, and you know what? Maybe you won't even know me.

Oh no, I said. Oh no. No matter how big or tall or old you are, I will always know you. You will always be my baby.