School started last Thursday for the kids, which marked the end of my time as a stay-at-home mom (a time that has been the most meaningful of my life). I got a call from the nurse halfway through the first day and had to pick up Fisher as he was running a high fever. That meant he missed the second day too. Phoenix fared better but she was so tired she lay like a puddle on the floor that first eve. And now I am tasked with figuring out what is next for me--thankfully I have an incredible husband who thinks I should spend a little time meditating and just caring for myself before I rush into anything. I believe something will come, and I am using this time to clear my mind and grow. I wrote up a little poetic musing inspired by that first day of school...
It is the first day of kindergarten and no one but a mother
knows what I mean by this. That little human you claimed now
claims
a space in the first of many a fluorescent-lit hallway,
shuffling amongst the shuffled, chipping away at
what will define her in time. Did I show her enough
fine vistas, did I engage the presence of trees, of heart,
to remind her what matters, to sustain what is wild in her?
Keep her grounded?
There is no going back.
As for my heart, it expands in distance – the way one trusts
the view
of mountains and accepts what lies beyond.
When I returned home from the school this morning
and stood at the window in the clock-ticking quiet
to gather what I mean now, a mother deer
and her fawn stood there too, rooting out tender leaves
as if they’d been waiting all summer to appear right there
before me.
Nothing in life has hurt me enough to not believe there is a
kind of magic
at work. And sure enough every time I looked out the window
they were there
moving gently and softly on the lawn, guiding me through the
hurt
with gentleness and grace. Go easy on yourself, they say, and walk with grace.
