Joshua attended afternoon kindergarten this year. Although we are 'bus eligible' there is no bus to school for PM kindergarten. I drove him to school every day.
Each day after getting out of the car, (the exception being the 5 days this spring that I had to walk him into the school and have the teacher 'peel' him off of me) he would ran as fast as he could to the kindergarten doors. His little "car flame" backpack that covers the whole of his back and half of his bum swinging behind him as his legs kicked up and ran.
Each day it was the same routine: him hop out of the car, say our goodbyes, him close the door, and off he would go. Just as he'd get to the corner to turn, he'd look back and wave. Every single day.
As much as I dislike the kindergarten half day schedule, there is something about having a child finish it that feels sad to me. The end of kindergarten is really the end of an era. To me, 'real school' begins the day a child starts first grade..
As I drove Joshua to kindergarten today, it was just me and him. As he closed the door following our regular routine, he started to run. I became very sentimental (and a little teary) as I realized this was the last day I'd ever see this particular scene, that without really thinking about it before, had become a tender and special part of my days.
I wanted to etch his fast running into kindergarten permanently into my mind, and hold it as a precious mind memory for years to come. Wanting to additionally capture it more permanently than only in my mind, I got out of the car to take a picture. Perhaps sensing my emotional state, Joshua turned around to wave a little earlier than usual, and saw me standing there with a camera in hand.
I didn't try to explain it to him. He wouldn't understand.
Only a mother could.