First Day of School

Ava started preschool last week.  I expected to bawl.  But I didn't.  She was just so sure of herself.  All I could really feel was proud...and relieved she is not like me.  I would have been wrapped around my mother's leg and screaming my head off if she had tried to make me go to preschool.  Instead she kissed me and her daddy goodbye and didn't look back once.  I stood in the hallway for a few seconds seeing if she'd look around for me, but nope, she was already playing and saying hello to other kids in the class.  All I could think is, she doesn't need me so much.  And even though there is some sadness mixed up in that, I'm happy. 

After all, don't you shoot for that when you're raising a child?  Giving them the skills to one day be able to do it themselves.  She asked me the other day if she could stay with me forever.  I told her that one day she'd probably get married and leave me to be with her husband.  Her eyes welled up with tears and she said emphatically, "Never!"  I chuckled and gave her a hug, knowing that one day all she'll dream about is getting out of the house and leaving me behind. 

While being separated I learned that the old cliche is true.  You can't go home.  It's not the same and it never will be.  I appreciate the town I grew up in.  Although it wasn't like I remembered it.  My memories of childhood there were shinier, bolder than what the place is now.  The intense emotions and experiences of childhood and adolescence probably made it seem so.  It was a safe place for me for a while.  When I needed it to be.  And really, what more can you ask of a place?