I present to you the mother cliche of motherhood cliches: I am having a tough time getting through Amy's first day of Kindergarten.
I know, I know. You're thinking as you roll your eyes across the mommy blogoverse, Of course you are--you and everyone else with a URL and an offspring are lamenting over babies growing up so fast...yada, yada, dabba dabba do. What makes you so different?
Nothing, really, but while I of course share that nostalgic element that this historic moment dictates, I don't think that's exactly what has me so melancholy today.
After we dropped A-Dog off wearing her new uniform and a smile, Jess and I headed out to try out some things to add to our own new routine. We went to the gym where I
I can now.
Pure, quiet awe.
Perhaps it's because of her special childhood and all of the unique obstacles she's overcome so beautifully. Maybe it's because we arrived at this place by such a different path that it feels so strange. Maybe it's because she's my little girl. Or it could be that motherhood feels differently as we age. (I really hope not.)
Maybe all or none of those, but that's kind of the cool thing about awe as opposed to just wonder or amazement.
Awe isn't everyday (or then it would be clueless bewilderment) so when you do feel it, no explanation is needed. You simply drop to your knees by the sheer beauty of it, and accept it as is--no conditions.
I'm not going to overanalyze this moment, feel silly or mislabel it. I am in constant awe of these gifts that I'm lucky to unwrap a little more everyday, and if some moments are more transparent than others to appreciate them, so be it.
Those were not sad tears nor joyful ones.
They were awe-inspired.