Preschool Pride

With the beat of the rain on the roof, the crowded room is dark and the screen on the TV is showing the pictures from the year.  My youngest daughter is munching away on her goldfish crackers in her stroller.

Today my oldest daughter graduates from pre-school. Two years ago we entered this room for the first time. Her cries of “Mommy, don’t leave!” still echo in my heart. I walked away that first day feeling like a bad mother. I couldn’t stop crying for leaving her to start her school career.

The lights are back on as the commencement ceremony is about to begin. The room is silent. Then, applause erupts as each student walks across the room to the teacher holding their certificates. My heart stops.

I look at my beauty standing tall, waiting for her cue. The reality of her growing up into this amazing young lady shudders through me. To my surprise my tears are falling, my nose is sniffling. My hand holding the camera begins to shake.

She skips across the room, unlike the walking her classmates were doing. She sits down with her class smiling at the cameras. When the teachers release them, she runs at me with her cap slipping from her head.  We gather our things as she says good bye to her friends.

The three of us cross the doorway onto the now sun- beamed sidewalk. I feel the familiar tears arrive again, yet they feel different.

The walk is filled with knowing my daughter is growing up well.  I am so proud to be her mother.

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