Since 1988, the beginning of August started off with waking children in the morning a few minutes sooner each day, and nudging them to bed earlier each night in preparation for the first day of school. This year, that won’t happen; a new annual routine will begin.
Shopping trips in search of shoes that fit after a summer of bare feet and flip-flops are a thing of the past. Those growing feet are off and on their own. Emotional discussions about winter coats and backpacks have ceased.
No more annoying piles of dirty laundry behind the bathroom door. The ‘Mom Patrol’ before leaving the house to ensure homework made it to a backpack; check lunches in hand are complete and dirty dishes have made their way to the sink made the final report the end of May. My load of responsibility has lightened, but my heart has gained some weight.
This is the year that makes being a grandma ever more precious. This is the year that all the first day of school stories will be relived vicariously over the Internet and text messages. This is the year, that the only one going back to school this autumn in this house is, me.