First before I go into what I really want to tell you about today, I have to backtrack a little to talk about the post I wrote a few days ago concerning my Lost Wallet. Earlier today, an anonymous reader left me a comment that I just had to delete because it was offensive and quite honestly made me feel really sad. This anonymous person felt I was being cruel in the way I described the man that found my wallet – instead of being thankful, he said I was insulting.
Anonymous, I must tell you that my husband said the very same thing to me, though he was much softer in his critique. If you’ve read this blog long enough then you would know that I do not profess to be a very good writer, far from it. I simply write about my small adventures in motherhood, and adventures that happen to me along the way. I can only write what truly is swirling around in this little brain of mine for to write anything different would be disingenuous. When I wrote about George, I never meant to give the impression that I was ungrateful... goodness no, quite the contrary. I was deeply moved by the fact that a stranger took the time to find me and graciously returned my wallet, but what I wrote didn’t clearly convey that at all. I merely wrote, at the time, what I was truly thinking and sometimes maybe I reveal too much. When I spoke to George on the phone I had a completely different image of: what he would look like, where he might live, his personality, his stature, everything. I don’t think I’m that much different than anybody else in that respect; we all have preconceptions that sometimes don’t match up with reality. When I wrote that post, I was writing to illustrate my true thoughts at the time, my first impressions. Was I thankful for George? Heck yes!! Was I more than thankful at the time of our meeting? Yes! I think I even bowed several times as I couldn’t think of any other way to express physically how incredibly grateful I was. Anonymous, I deleted your first comment, but left your second one for all to see. you made me so sad, but in the end, I feel like you were doing exactly as I had done – you gave me your honest impression – I can’t fault you for that.
Tomorrow will be my Alex’s last day of preschool. Come this fall, she’ll be a kindergartner and then I will never be a mother of a preschooler ever again. I’m a little teary eyed over the whole thing, and excited for this new chapter in our lives. I wish I could say that I taught my children well in their pre-kindergarten years, but I can only take credit for a handful of nuggets that they will carry with them for the rest of their lives. 1) Eat over your plate. 2) Keep to the sidewalk because if you walk in the grass you might step in poop. That’s it. I’ve got nothing else. With this, I’m sending little Alex to kindergarten where hopefully she’ll learn a bunch more.
Today, on our way home from school, Alex said she was going to miss preschool. I didn’t have the courage to tell her that I’m going to miss it too. She made friends with just about the sweetest, most caring little girls and boys imaginable and I’m going to miss seeing their giggly faces and the way their coats hang off one shoulder even on the coldest days. Their lunchboxes are just about as big as they are and when they walk they seem to list to one side, negotiating their way toward the school entrance while simultaneously trying to maintain a good grip on their meal. They are hilarious and such a welcome sight to see each morning at drop-off. Now, all the kids will go their separate ways, all entering the same grade at different schools – some private, some public – but, I’m certain that they all share some, if not all, of the anxiety Alex is feeling. In hindsight, this part of our lives seems short. I will miss it, and cherish it forever.