This month I am using
my blog as a sounding board for my homework.
We have to use two of the five senses in order to be nostalgic. I’m not done with it yet, but I’ve been
trying to write about this topic for two weeks now…I hope I got it!
Frequently throughout
life one takes a moment to reminisce. Reflection
is a wonderful activity to participate in, and it is something I frequently
have my students participate in. It only
makes sense then that as a parent, on the cusp of a new career that I will be
reflective from time to time. Especially
during the month of June. You see, this
month my son graduated Kindergarten. Now
I know, I just know, if you’re not a parent you are most likely rolling your
eyes and a few of you may be wondering why mediocrity is celebrated. But humor a mother for a little bit right now
okay? Or stop reading your choice.
I knew I had to try to survive two
parts of the Graduation. Listening to “Pomp
and Circumstance” and the emotional roller coaster that is the Graduation
slideshow. But I had a plan. I would help out during Graduation. After all, my son’s school is also where I
work, and I help out during Graduation every year. If I’m working, I probably will be able to
keep the waterworks at bay right? I
underestimated the power of music. And
not just any music. One song in
particular. “Pomp and Circumstance.”
By the time I had to
press play on “Pomp and Circumstance” I realized how much I truly hate that
song. Now don’t get me wrong, it’s a beautiful
song. But think of all the times in your
life you hear it, it always signals the end of something; the end of Kindergarten,
high school, college, an era. I can’t
hear that song without thinking of my own trek down the aisle for my Bachelors. I never thought I would walk at my own
college graduation, and I did so six months after my father passed. A week before he went into his sharp decline
and his body began to shut down I finished all of my course work and ran to
tell him. It was something he had always
wanted for me. And I can’t hear that
song without thinking of him. When I was
in Kindergarten, he was in college, and although we didn’t attend his
Graduation, “Pomp and Circumstance” reminds me of him. I witnessed his numerous hours studying, and
the enormous books he had, and his refusal to throw them away even twenty years
after graduating from New England Tech. Something
my mother, who never did value an education, could never understand. But it was something my Dad and I just got. He would keep those books next to our
Commodore 64 in the basement, which doubled as a playroom. When he was at work, I remember running my hands
over the pages. I was amazed at how
large those books were, I assumed there was no one smarter than my Dad since he
could read those books. Even thinking
about it now I realize he was the sole adult in my life I would witness reading
anything substantial. My mother would
only be concerned in magazines that promised to make your house attractive,
nothing that would really matter in life.
But these books of my Dad’s with their weird drawings, which I now
realize were math equations, were something. I would take the corner of the books when no
one was around, and flip the pages to hear the slapping of each sheet against
one another enjoying not only the sound they made, but how they felt against my
thumb. Thankfully it is near impossible
to dissect memories of my father apart from “Pomp and Circumstance.” I love that I am reminded in his passion for
education with a common song.
As I watched my son up
on the stage, paying attention to the ceremony, walking up to receive his
diploma, I was instantly in the hospital room at Women and Infants having my
husband teach me how to diaper a baby and wondering if I could even do
this. And I am not referring to just the
diapering, (although that was a huge concern) but being a parent at all. Did I love him enough? Could I love him enough? Will he love me? What if I dropped him, or didn’t feed him
enough, or couldn’t get him to sleep? Could
I relate to this little amazing being that was now my responsibility? And why don’t these little guys come with
manuals? Fast forward six years and I
can’t imagine my life without that amazingly funny, smart, kind, goofy
kid! My fears of motherhood, which now
seem so unfounded, can come flooding back to me with just one look. I remember lying in the hospital bed, holding
him until the crook of my arm ached, looking at every single spot of his
face. His little nose, to the eyes that
seemed to never rest, to two perfectly sculpted lips, as if they were made for
a baby doll. And with one look, watching
him on stage “like a big kid” I am back in that room, surrounded by my fear and
the love the three of us have for one another.
Reflection is a funny
thing, and can sneak up on us at any time.
A simple Kindergarten graduation can propel me back six years to a time
of extreme importance in my life to thirty years, to things that seem
insignificant on the surface.
