I sent the girl child off to her first full day of school today. We talked about her feelings. . is she excited (yes!). . . is she nervous (nope) . . . what is she looking forward to the most (everything!). I waited with the other families for our turn to meet the teacher, to shake his hand and send my child into the gaping hole to another world that the doorway had become. People arrived after us, they went before us. I stood solidly in place watching the teacher begin to sweat as the effort of convincing parents and children to part in a 5 second conversation became to much for his first day on the job.
I held girl child close to me, smiling and chatting with the parents who had made it out of the separation alive. I watched a 3rd grader burst into tears at the thought of leaving her mama. I knew just how she felt. There was only her and her best friend left, I could not keep her with me any longer without making her wonder why. I looked down at my angel child, smiling shyly at her new teacher. I gently nudged her forward and she approached him shyly. He greeted her by name and said he had heard great things about her. I assured him they were all true. He offered me his hand, a weak sweaty halfhearted handshake. My angel child skipped inside, without so much as a kiss goodbye. I tried to think nice things about him, but I failed. Not today. He has my child and I have resorted to a toddler level, wanting nothing more than to rip her away from him and yell mine.
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