First Day

The first day of school for my first born. It was a time I will never forget. We lived in a small town named Union City, MI. The school was fairly new and only 3 blocks from our home. The first day of school I dressed Chris in his new outfit. He was a beautiful child with his bright blue eyes and corn yellow hair. His sister walked beside him and I had the baby in a stroller. We all walked to school. We got the door in sight when Chris decided he could walk the rest of the way by himself. Off he took, running to the school. I watched him run. I watched him rush toward growing up. When I turned with the other children to go home, I couldn't stop crying.
The first day of school for my last one, Rob, was almost the same. Except that he got on a bus and rode to school with his brothers and sister. I watched his blond head as he went forth in a sea of children. He didn't turn to wave. He went forward. I turned from the bus stop and cried all the way home again, this time by myself. I had watched my youngest climb the steps into the bus. I had watched my youngest climb toward growing up.
The first and the last. They were the hardest for me. All of them leaving me for the first time was heart breaking, but the first one leaving was the signal that change was coming for our family. We had children growing up and entering a world away from us. We had to watch the change in them as they met people with differing ideas. We had to be wary of ideas that were unacceptable to our standards. It was a challenge.
Looking back, I wish I could relive those moments and cherish them as I watched them. I wish I could give my little boy one last hug before he had entered the alien world. Actually, I wish I could give each of my five children one last hug.