Schoolbag in hand, she leaves home in the early morning
Waving goodbye with an absent-minded smile
I watch her go with a surge of that well known sadness
And I have to sit down for a while
The feeling that I’m losing her forever
And without really entering her world
I’m glad whenever I can share her laughter
That funny little girl
This ABBA song is our song, my girl and mine, and I don’t know when actually the lyrics seemed to have meshed up with reality and I am all teary-eyed today.
It seems like yesterday when we took our child for the school admissions interview. I remember vividly every detail of that session, like it actually happened yesterday and not some 13 odd years ago.
On the day of the interview, my child was cranky because of her stuffy nose and she was sleepy. She refused to play with puzzles or name animals. When we entered the principal’s office, my daughter took off her sandal shoe and ran to the bed there, saying with a sigh, “Oh a bed!” as if we were torturing her to be on her best that day. She was, as always, herself.
My husband and I felt doomed; I was so hell bent on getting her admitted to this school that I did not even collect any forms from other schools. In a split second I saw my life end.
However, by some divine intervention, I guess, she managed to impress the board with her cranky answers and spent thirteen wonderful years there and last Tuesday she bid goodbye to her school years.
Yet in my eyes, my child is still that cranky baby with a unique personality, who never fails to impress me. I can not recall how these years went by and exactly at what juncture of life my child out grew me. She is no longer in my league, her mind is racing and it’s taking her places I have never dreamt of.
She says things that literally fly way over my head. I am in awe of her logical answers supporting her illogical demands. And she openly prefers to engage in ‘intellectual’ debates with her father and bothers me only when she needs an approval on her new hair cut. But that’s motherhood — learning to let go.
And with a pensive smile I only hope that I have prepared my child adequately enough to venture out and walk towards new horizons, to meet all the new challenges, to cope with all the probabilities and possibilities of life; the dreams-come-true and the disappointments of shattered dreams.
My child doesn’t need me now, my job as a mother is done. I just need to stand on the sides and see her race through life and encourage her if she falters. I can only pray that the morals and the values I tried to instil in her make her capable of managing the responsibilities of adulthood.
But then again, mothering is not only about changing diapers, tying shoe laces and doing homework; there is so much more to it and even if I try hard I can never stop being a mum.
I will always pray for her. I will always be by her side in her darkest hours. I will help her to face her demons and challenge life and I will always nag her about her choices. And even when I am not here, I will remain her guardian angel forever.
School ends for her and all her friends, who are as close to my heart as she is. And as we approach Mother’s Day, I pray that all of them fare well in life and that all their dreams come true no matter how impossible they sound. Good luck for the exams and good luck for the next phase of life my beautiful children.