The Fourth

Almost every time I drop off my kid at school, we’re a little further away from it than we were the day before. The first day I tried to walk with her all the way up to the door of her homeroom but was stopped at the bottom of the stairs, inside the school, by a staff member. Every subsequent time, it’s been her who drew the line. The next day it was outside the door of the building. Then it was inside the schoolyard, 3/4s of the way to the door, then halfway, a quarter… eventually I wasn’t even making it into the school at all, just watching her go in from the side street as she made her way to the entrance. Now, less than a month into the year, I’m all the way back to the main street, hugging her goodbye on the corner, looking on as she disappears into the mass of blue jeans and hoodies. 

But this is the way of life. This is what’s been happening since they were born, slowly, unevenly, moving away from me— from us—  and toward their independence. It’s the natural progression of growth from one generation to the next and it’s to be, if not enjoyed, at least expected and accepted. And I get to see it happen like a time-lapsed video, the years of a childhood symbolically played out in a matter of weeks. 

Or maybe it’ll be months. We take the train down there and the big leap will be when she lets me know she’s ready to take that ride without me. And it’s possible she’ll like the morning company for a while before we take that step. But we’re getting close to me getting off the train simply to hug her goodbye and then turning around to wait for the next train to go back home.

I’ll have to be prepared to let go of our morning travels. I’ll miss that time we have together. We’re often silent. We’re not morning people. I can fake it, force small talk when I need to. But I don’t push her to be that way. I’d rather her be comfortably herself, especially as we make our way to a place that so aggressively demands conformity from her. 

Plus, I know that picking her up from school is when she opens up and has a lot to say— relief and joy from the day being over fueling her enthusiasm. 

Of course, I also know that those trips are reflections of the morning. They’re just as short-lived. Once she doesn’t need or want my company on the way there, she’s not likely to want it on the way back. But we’ll see. I won’t know until it happens, and until it happens, I’m going to enjoy it as much as I can. 

I’m on Threads, Instagram, the Website Formerly Known as Twitter, Facebook, and, of course, Bluesky.