This is an absolutely
crazy time of year. Between Rob’s
end of school wrap up, the finalization and planning of summer
camps/trips/nanny schedules, the year end festivities, BBQs and celebrations
for both kids and an unanticipated surge in the number of palliative patients
on my caseload, we have been moving at warp speed on a daily basis.
I often think of that
scene from Spaceballs when they turn the velocity of the ship to LUDICROUS
speed and, with the sudden acceleration making his face gaunt with disfigurmenet
he says, “BUT WE CANT TURN IT UP!!! WE’RE
GOING TOO FAST!!!”
Too late. I hear you, Spaceballs. We’re going too fast.
Amidst the rush and
micromanagement of various “to-do” lists, it suddenly fell on my plate to take
Mia to daycare today. And as we
were packing up to go I somehow remembered that today was her last day of
daycare. For the summer…and…oh
wait a second…for LIFE.
I paused – just for a
split second – to let this sink in.
Hmmm…
And then the dog
barfed and the toothpaste fell on the floor and Toby couldn’t get his sunscreen
cap off and WE WERE GOING TO MISS THE BUS and the moment was gone.
Of COURSE, of all
mornings, there was crazy construction on the way to daycare. We were late, but I still somehow remembered to bring
in Mia’s hand made card and give it to her daycare teacher and before I knew it, she was
with her group, about to go outside.
One last time.
I was rushed back out
the door as an excited group of 2 year olds crowded the front hall to put their
outdoor shoes on. But as I ran
down the path back to my car I felt time grind to an unexpected halt.
I turned.
And I looked at the door that had just shut behind me.
That door.
It seemed like
yesterday and forever ago that I first opened that door, innocently and nervously
dropping off my golden haired little 15 month old boy at his very first day of
daycare.
And today, for the last time, I am leaving my grown up 4 year old baby girl.
There was no great
ceremony to mark the end of Mia’s daycare life. There was no hoopla for us, as a family, even though we have
spent 6 years opening and closing that door to this wonderfully secure place
that has nurtured our children through our most trying of days.
I supposed in life
this is often how it goes; unceremoniously, the doors before us and behind us
open and close. We wander in,
wander through and wander past, not always knowing which doors are
significant. My only hope is that
life continues to bring me more times to pause and reflect and be thankful as
one door closes and another opens.
It was but a small moment in my day today, but that brief opportunity to
disembark from the lightening fast speed train of life to spend a moment in
quiet reflection aligned everything back into perspective.
Thank you, Duntroon,
for nurturing my children in their early years. For preparing them for kindergarten in ways we as parents
cannot. For creating some
regularity and consistency in their lives. For forcing me to delve deep into my inner often untapped
soul of creativity each year for that damn Trike-a-thon. For letting us come early and late and
somewhere inbetween. And for
loving our children. Thank you for playing such an important part of their journey.
 |
| Toby Henry, on his First day at Duntroon Daycare, Sept 2009, age 1.5 |
 |
| Mia Henry, on her Last day at Duntroon Daycare, June 2015, age 4.5 |
Posts
