Crying at the fence

Good Morning and here we are again!

There were times during the summer that I couldn't wait for school to start. There were times I wished it wouldn't begin again (of course, I also wished I won the lottery so work wouldn't begin again, but that's another story all together).
When school did start last week, well, I figured it was about time.
What I wasn't prepared for was the sleepless nights leading up to the first day.
It wasn't the children. They went out like lights even though there was some nervous excitement about starting a new year.
It was me. You see, the oldest boy is in 9th grade. High school. Really, high school.
For some reason, that kind of hit me like a rock. Every time I closed my eyes I saw him standing at the fence screaming when we dropped him off for kindergarten.
I kept up a front then. All I really wanted to do was scoop him up and take him home. Forget about school. Don't grow up.
I knew that wasn't the way it could happen, so I drove away while he was standing at the fence. What he didn't know is I would park a block away and walk up just far enough until I could see he would be OK
Of course he was. He'll be OK in high school. He'll be OK when he gets to college.
In a way, though, I hope he will always be the boy at the fence looking for me.