To Those of Us Graduating Kids This Spring

This is an open letter to moms with seniors this year.

And to dads too, I guess.

Actually – how about this is a letter to just to ALL the people who love anyone who is graduating this spring.

There – we can ALL have permissions to feel the feelings.

It is a LOT!

It is everything and it is none of the things.

It’s so much.

Here are these kids that we love and in whom we have invested – and they think it was enough time to be educated and to be “ready” but we know it was never enough time.

And they think they know so much. And they do.

And they don’t.

They think that they’re prepared.

And they are.

And they aren’t.

But they’ll be going forth into the world anyway.

All these fresh-faced kids graduating too soon, before we get all of our lessons in.

Of course we aren’t done.

We know this. But it’s easy to forget that this month.

We’re not finished teaching and we’re not finished guiding and we’re not finished giving advice and we’re not finished offering a shoulder to cry on.

Having a twenty-eight year old daughter (!!!) who is my friend reminds me that we are not done. Being a forty-eight year old daughter who just spoke with my dad this morning reminds me that our work as parents never ends.

But we are something else.

We’re getting there – but we’re not there yet.

We’re dancing with this kid who we have been in relationship with their entire lives – who we know pretty well. And while we think we know everything – we all know that we don’t.

But we do know some things.

So we are doing this awkward two step song and dance we have no business doing but it’s the only thing we can do. And if this whole post feels as if I am taking in rhymes and riddles –

well, it’s because I am.

Because that’s exactly what this season feels like. A riddle to be solved. A waltz to be danced. A puzzle to understand.

Here’s to you – graduates.

And here’s to you – moms and dads, aunt and uncles, friends who have loved these littles and that messy toddler and that sassy six year old and that darling eight year old and the precocious twelve year old who couldn’t grow herself into a teenager fast enough.

Here’s to you – parents who have sat up late watching the tiny animated version of your kid’s virtual car on Life 360 in this modern age of parenting. Waiting for the wheels to turn into your driveway. Feeling a weight lift off your chest because tonight – they made it home. Tonight, they are making it home safely and tonight they are poking their head into your bedroom door saying, “I’m home, Mom.”

They’re sleepy and you’re sleepy and you pat the bed beside you.

“Come here,” you invite, trying to keep any pressure out of your voice. “Talk to me about your night.”

Sometimes they do. Sometimes they come in and they sit beside you – maybe even let you scratch their back in their baggy clothes and their shoulder chips and they sit there. You feel like you won the lottery as they start describing anything happening in their heart and in their head.

They keep talking and you just sit there – willing your eyes to stay open. Internally scrambling – not so much that you say the right thing, but that, heaven forbid, you don’t say the wrong thing.

And other nights, you invite them in, pat the bed and they say, “Nah, I’m tired. I’m going to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”

You know that’s normal. You know you did the same. But there’s still a sting and it burns like rejection.

You know it’s true flavor is just the taste of growing up. It’s just what everyone tastes and and this time it’s just your turn.

So here’s to you parents – sitting in this space with your seniors.

You are not alone.

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