A Little Melancholy

I am trying not to feel too bad about the passage of time.

I knew in some part of my head that my children’s school days would not last forever.

It just always seemed like they would.

There would always be another Monday morning where we were running late and had to drive a little too fast down the hill to make it to school on time. There would always be another email from the parent club asking for help, inviting folks to join a committee, to be a bigger part of what was going on at the school.

I was a faithful helper in my kids’ classrooms through elementary school, but did less as they got older. I confess that I haven’t done much at all to help at the high school. I admired the parents who showed up and gave their time. I was grateful for them. Maybe I thought that someday I would make a little more time to be a bigger part of all the goings on.

But I didn’t.

And now?

It’s too late.

My son will be graduating in two weeks, and the twice a day drive I’ve made for the last years to drop him off and pick him up at day’s end will not be something that I have to do anymore.

(That I get to do anymore.)

Sure, it will be good to save some money on gasoline, some wear on my trusty, older car.

But it’s been a joy. Overall. Not every day, not every moment, but really, the years in the car with my kids for the daily school commute have been a joy. I got to listen to their music and learn about what they liked, songs I never would have been exposed to on my own. Sometimes we talked. Sometimes we were just quiet together.

I know I was present for many of my children’s school milestones. I attended track meets and ski races. I got to see my son play his first tennis match this year, when he decided to be part of the tennis team for his final months of high school, when he had never played before. I was so proud of him, watching how he had progressed in just a few weeks. Over the years, I went to every back-to-school night and sat through teacher presentations and brought home syllabi. I went to school concerts and school plays and cheered at the parts where my kids were on stage.

But it’s easy at this point to doubt myself, to get lost in the melancholy of the passage of time, to wonder if I was present enough. If I took it all in. Or if I worried away the years, wondering about their futures and college and where they would be admitted and how all of it would work out.

I wish my present self could send a note to my past self, the one that worried about grades and ACT scores and encouraged my kids to participate in all the right school activities and wondered whether they would get into college. That note would have said: relax and enjoy them. It’s all going to be okay. Both your kiddos are going to be just fine.

I am feeling some regret now, wondering if I was present enough in the little moments as they passed. Wondering what I missed because of my anxiety about the future. Could I have been more centered and aware of the little moments, of the beauty of them? Would my experience of their high school experience been richer if I was more involved?

Maybe.

But it was what it was.

And really? It was good. All the oranges I peeled for healthy breakfasts. All the lunches I packed. All the nagging I did about homework and studying. All the uniforms and workout clothes I washed. All the Wednesday night Netflix we watched together, after the day’s work was done. I was there for all of that, wasn’t I? I might not have always realized it at the time, but I was there.

(Note from my future self to my current self: as one of your sweet children graduates from college and the other starts in the fall, it is possible that you might continue to worry about them. You wonder how they will fare, one as she starts a career, the other as he moves into a dorm and has roommates who are not you. But let me reassure you: they will be fine! Just like they were fine all the way through high school, they will be fine in this next part of their lives. Also? You will be fine, too.)

The weeks ahead will be full, and I can do my best to be present for them. For the ironing of the graduation gown. The framing of the diploma. The celebratory luncheon after the ceremonies. With minimal anxiety (because the anxiety is something that is almost always with me). But less of it. Maybe less.

I can’t rewind the clock. I can’t stop time. But I can be here, and do my best to be fully present, for these days ahead. For all of them.

What a gift it has been.

What a gift it is.