Elementary school ended today. For the summer. For this school year. For our household. There will be no more school bus. There will be no more one-teacher conference day. There will be no more mass of parents in the classroom, no more kindergarteners as we make our way. This chapter is over.
So much in our lives is fluid. People drift in and out, one project or
event seems to blend into another. It is rare, it seems, that we come to
actual endings. Each thing is just a path to another. Perhaps in a few
months, this will be no different. School will return, even if it is
different school, routines will resume, even if they are different
routines. Today, however, I feel the door closing behind us. Like my
last day at college or my last day at ABC, this feels like the end of
something. And I suppose, just like those other times, this will be the
beginning of something as well. So, for today, I dwell in the moment of
ending. I absorb what is being left behind. Tomorrow, and next week, and in a few months, we will begin again. Because in a life full of endings, that's just what you have to do.