I took Eliza to Middle School Orientation. My sweet, shorter-than-everyone, younger-than-some-4th- graders, best-friends-with-a-first-grader, happy Eliza.
She was excited and nervous. She jumped out of the car, held my hand and skipped as we walked into the school. She held my hand through the heavy metal doors that led us into the school that smells remarkably like my middle school of 23 years ago. She held my hand as we waited in the crunched line of nervous children and supportive parents.
I saw at once that we were in a different world than the one she occupies at home that is full of Barbies and fairy houses with our 7-year-old neighbor, Avengers shows with Chas, and cuddling with Dad. I saw teeny-boppers dressed in their favorite "cool" outfit. I saw kids navigating the complex road of who to say "Hi" to and how.
And then I knew that I had to tell her. I leaned down and whispered, "Eliza, sweetheart, I love you, and I love to hold your hand, and I know you're nervous, but 6th Graders don't really hold their moms' hands. I'll still hold it if you want to..."
And she let go. And a piece of my heart fell off to have said it. Good luck, Eliza the Brave.
1 comment:
You've made me cry. But I haven't put on my makeup for the day so I forgive you. Unless of course I end up with a crying headache this afternoon.
She is brave. And so are you.
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