It’s early June and you know what that means? Lives are changing all over the world. The end of the school year is here and Facebook is blowing up with pictures of children, donned in their caps and gowns posing proudly as they complete a milestone in their lives. This year, our house was no different. Foster’s spring program was a couple of days ago and we’d been practicing his poem “what I want to be when I grow up.”
As we sat on the lawn of my children’s preschool, I sat anxiously waiting to see my son walk out; dressed like a cop, hoping he wouldn’t clam up in front of the crowd. We watched veterinarians; ballerinas and even a popcorn man recite the poems they’d worked so hard on every day for the last several weeks. When my son’s teacher said, “Foster Johnson,” I sat proudly holding the video camera, making sure I captured every moment. He said it perfectly, his sweet voice telling all of us why he wanted to be a cop, a profession he had just recently settled on because pop star was already taken. When I cheered, I could sense the first twinge of emotion start to creep its way up. As the graduating class left to change into their caps and gowns, we watched the other classes perform and I sat there and reflected on how it could be possible that these kids were going off to kindergarten. The same kids that Foster has been with since the infant classroom, the same kids who are now going off into the surrounding areas to their slated schools. I sat there and pondered whether or not Foster really understood what was happening…and then I saw him. This skinny blond curly headed boy standing in his blue cap and gown, in line waiting for his turn again. I grabbed my camera to snap some pictures and before I knew it, I heard the familiar sound of Pomp and Circumstance.
Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. No one said anything about Pomp and Circumstance. I felt the faint flutter of a butterfly in my gut. I looked at my husband, he felt it too. We watched as the names were called and I was immediately transported to high school and then college. I reflected on the times I marched to that song, the sense of accomplishment I felt, the emotion it ensues. What is it about that song that tugs at the heart strings so much? When I heard Foster’s name again, I came to the realization that it’s not the achievement or pride that brings on such emotion…the song is a reminder. A reminder that life is moving and it’s moving fast. And there is nothing we can do about it. This is the first of many milestones that will pass for Foster. He will graduate and move on to many other stages in his life and, before I know it, he will not be my baby anymore. I sat there and smiled with tear-filled eyes, determined to not let any fall. I tried thinking of naked grandmas, dancing monkeys, anything to distract me from what was happening and then I remembered….
Foster isn’t graduating this year. He’s an October baby and missed the cut off, which means he has another year in pre-school. He participated with his class because they didn’t want to leave anybody behind. So I got it together and as I clapped one last time for the class of 2013, I was grateful for the practice run. This mama needed it.
Foster Johnson
Class of 2013
Strawberries & Collard Greens 