Max finished preschool last Friday. I admit there were tears in my eyes. I tried to be tough, but what the hell. We have taken our children Raintree Montessori since 2006 when Owen started as a three-year-old. Max ended our tenure there in the same classroom.
Five years. Goodbyes are hard.
Today is the last Monday of school. Seniors are gone already. My juniors will be saying goodbye for the summer (those who don't have to take final exams, at least--we have an exemption policy).
I've gotten used to the hello-goodbye process at school; this is my 12th year.
But when it is my own kids... Sometimes life seems too short.
I find myself thinking of the last story in Tim O'Brien's The Things They Carried, "Lives of the Dead". While I'm not writing about anyone's death, I am reminded of why I like stories. Like any piece of art, they can imbue life into something gone. I can write a story about a preschool boy and paint him with my Max brush. I like that about stories. They can live forever, just as they are, while the real "us" have to move on.
Have a great day.