I'm standing at the precipice. In a few short days, all will change. Boxes keep mounting around me. The walls are coming down. The kids don't fully understand. I hate feeling like I'm dismantling our little haven - for some, the only truly safe and comfortable place they have. It pulls at the heartstrings for me to wonder where they will be - who they will become - how I have influenced them, if at all. I hope - pray - that they will have happy, fulfilling lives. I hope their memories will take some small fragment of me with them.
The coveted month of June is finally here but feels surreal. I was thinking about it today - how children grow slowly, gradually, in our peripheral vision, somewhat out of consciousness, until one day we look at them full on and are blown away by the transformation.
The past few weeks, we watched our caterpillars ever-so-intently, magnifying glasses in hand, yet never caught the change. It happened over nights and weekends - in those little moments between all the rush, when we were too busy to pay attention. But surely, willfully, those butterflies emerged.
We let those butterflies go last week. It felt strange, having seem them through from tiny larvae. Some flew off, eager, strong - but a good handful clung to that damn box. They did not want to leave; I had to coax them. Only now, upon reflection, am I realizing the symbolism.
Oh man, it is going to be so hard to say goodbye. I know I have to let them go. I just hope they will fly.