I must admit that I am not always entirely sure what I will write before I sit down to do so. But all day today I was looking forward to tonight, knowing exactly what I wanted to impart regarding Edgar’s first day of preschool. I wanted to write about how giddy he felt–going to bed on Wednesday night quietly uttering, “Tomorrow is my special day!” I wanted to share how he woke up this morning with a giggle recalling as he first opened his eyes the signficance of the day’s events. And I wanted to rejoice at the unbelievable ease with which Edgar seems to handle all of life’s transitions.
But then I downloaded the photos. And I saw something there that I missed this morning.
Edgar WAS nervous. Not to such an extent that it would stifle or stop him in any way. But he was definitely feeling how big the day was. And in my constant awe at the wonder with which he approaches life, I didn’t see that despite his perennial joy at nearly everything he encounters, today he was experiencing the same butterflies in the stomach that many of us know so well.
The tears I shed this morning on the way home after having dropped him off at the foot of this journey were matched tonight after the realization that I somehow overlooked what he was feeling.
Edgar’s growth lately–in so many ways–has been as noticeable as it has been remarkable. It is my hope that I am able to keep up and grow with him because I don’t want to miss a thing.