Today is the day. You start kindergarten today, Wednesday, August 15, 2018. I’m in Charlotte for a meeting that can’t be avoided. In the past, I’ve flown through three time zones to make it to your Daddy Day and I’ve scheduled numerous other trips around the smallest of events – all worth it. However, I can’t make that happen today, my little princess. I’m sorry, but there is nothing I can do. The funny thing is that you probably didn’t give it two thoughts, while I’ve been remorseful for weeks.
I’ve been reading dozens of posts on Facebook and Instagram by parents sending off their kids to the first day of kindergarten or middle school or college. Virtually every post is sad. Quotes like “Nooo.” and “You were just a baby yesterday. How did this happen so quickly?” and my personal favorite by our friend Silke “Dear time, shut that shit down. Thanks for your cooperation.” I know that’s a bad word, so yell at Silke next time you see her.
I empathize with these somber feelings of other parents, but I don’t feel like time has slipped by for us. Maybe it’s because I always wanted children and didn’t have the opportunity until I was in my early forties. Maybe it’s because I’ve documented and journaled pretty much every day of your life. Maybe it’s because life has slowed down since I met Mommy - she has helped me understand how to live in the moment. I don’t know. These five years haven’t passed by rapidly for me, but I’m still sad and I don’t know why.
We’ve had an amazing 72 months. I know that doesn’t add up, but my relationship with you started when Mommy told me she was pregnant at the end of August of 2012. My life changed. I changed. I used to think people couldn’t change. I knew that I couldn’t change. You changed me. Only you changed me. Mommy made me realize that I was good enough already, and that awareness changed my life, but I didn’t change – I just relaxed. You changed me. The memories so far are too many to list … hearing you say “doggie” for your first words, hearing Aunt Penni yell across the house to come watch you smile for the first time, holding your hand to cross a million different streets, etc. etc. etc. Amazing memories that can fill a lifetime, but I’m still sad and I don’t know why.
You’re ready for school. You’ve become a compassionate and responsible little girl, and I’m proud of you. You’ve experienced more in five years than I ever did. You watched your dog Tucker pass and you handled it perfectly – showing grief and knowing that he is in a better place. Just over four months later we lost Aunt Penni – your nanny and third parent. It’s been three months since that afternoon, and you’re still working through the process in such a healthy way. I think my favorite memory so far happened three days after Penni passed. You watched me - the person you call “the big man”, the one that you believe fights sharks and can answer any question ever asked – you watched me cry at our dining room table. I tried not to but couldn’t hold it back. I may fight sharks, but I miss my sister. Barely five years old, you stood there and shared that moment with me without wavering or distraction. You didn’t understand, but you were there with me. That moment taught me more than you’ll ever know. You didn’t intellectualize … you felt and you let me feel. Yes, you’ve experienced much for a five-year-old, and you’re ready for school, but I’m still sad and I don’t know why.
I actually enjoy watching you get older. My relevance in your life becomes greater every year. I miss holding you for hours when you were a baby. I miss watching you marvel at every little new discovery when you were a toddler. I miss listening to you learn how to speak. I’m also enjoying watching you grow into a little adult and interact with other kids. I’m going to love working through homework with you. I can’t wait to coach your teams. I’m looking forward to your struggles as a teenager and offering my shoulder. I can’t wait to move you into your dorm. I know exactly what I’m going to say when we’re discussing your first big career decisions over a glass of wine. I can’t wait to meet your husband and love him as our son. And grandchildren… as excited as I am about having grandkids one day, nothing excites me more than watching you experiencing the bliss that your mom and I have had since you came into our lives. All those and millions of other moments are in front of us, but I’m still sad and I don’t know why.
Yes, like all other parents, I’m sad today. I don’t know why – it’s illogical - but I am. I think it’s a mixture of pride, nostalgia, and love that can’t really be described. No, I don’t want time to slow down. I don’t want it to speed up either. I want time to be exactly how it is. Life has never been perfect, but my experience in life has been perfect since the moment I learned that you were, and I don’t want anything to change … not even the pace of time.
I love you, Manhattan. Enjoy and embrace kindergarten, my dear little girl.
