The First of the Last of the Firsts

Dear Emily,

Today was the first day of the long, slow year of the last of the firsts.

On your first day in elementary school you went in for a short open house. We waited for you to turn back. You were nervous. It was a new school. You didn’t know anybody. There had been a lot of big changes in our house. A wedding. A baby on the way. You were to start at one school and transfer to another in only a few weeks time. There had been tears. (Most of them were mine.)

You took a few tentative steps and then you took off. Because you were ready.

And you’re ready once again. To start that long year that is all at once too fast and far too slow. You’ve been waiting for this year for so long. You are a Senior. We have started college visits and boxing up pots and pans that will some day be in an apartment. We just got you a new laptop because “it will be the one you take to college.” Somewhere in your room is a sweatshirt that you might still be wearing when you turn thirty because the life that is happening now is the foundation for the life you will build. And there is a very good chance that life will be made up of hooded sweatshirts at this point.

Emily June, when you were tiny you were always so brave. In recent years you’ve let that brave face down a bit and you’ve let your life feel a little messier. Believe it or not, this is the very thing about which I am the most proud. You have already learned to ask for help, a skill that took me well into my thirties to even attempt. You feel the feelings, big and small. This year will be made up of big, obvious Last First Times. But there will be so many more moments that slip right past you because the unfortunate truth is that this year you’ve been waiting for… the big Senior year… it won’t be all that different than last year. You will have classes to attend, work that you may or may not feel like going to, meals that are less than impressive, eaten quickly at the kitchen counter. And all of a sudden it will be next summer.

And when next summer rolls around and the tears are flowing even more than this morning… let us both remember that you will always be my baby girl. When your nose starts to tingle and you feel a little cry-y, text your mom. There’s a good chance that I am already crying. I’m one step ahead of you, Em.

xoxo,

Mom