We walked by the backpacks yesterday. Shiny sequin bags, bags with kittens wearing sunglasses, some with hearts and rainbows.
You reached out to touch them, and then quickly pulled back.
Your face dropped a little more as you stepped back, “I don’t need one of these this year”.
2020 has been full of so many no’s for you.
I picked you up last year from school on a Thursday in March and you never again went back. Your ballet recital tutu still hangs unworn in the closet. Your baseball glove neglected on the floor. A flower girl invitation untouched on the shelf.
Where backpacks, markers, lunch kits, and indoor shoes once lived…you have only me and your dad.
And history books will one day tell you of all this. They will talk about the lives we lost, the masks we were forced to wear, the handwashing…so much handwashing.
But they won’t talk of your resiliency.
They won’t talk of how you rode your bike hundreds of kilometres passed taped off parks and empty playgrounds learning to enjoy the ride that has no destination. They won’t talk of the games you learned to play alone in your room. They won’t talk about how you learned how to do ballet, reading, and math on zoom. A program you had never heard of before that Thursday in March.
And they won’t talk about the first year of school that we decided to stay home. The year of school that your mom started law school online, the year your sister spent her first trip around the sun in a pandemic, the year your dad battled a major oilfield recession.
They won’t talk about the year that we threw everything up in the air and hoped for the best.
And hoping is what we’re doing. I can’t tell you what this year will look like. I’m not even sure what tomorrow will bring. I know there will be days that we make paper mache volcanoes and find time for nature walks and there will be days that we pray just to survive. There will be days that we learn together and days that you’ll need to do it on your own.
But when you sit down one day and learn of the year the world shut down I hope you think of what we started today.
I hope you think of grade 2 in a little white house with a red door. The year school became an endless world of possibilities. The year of resounding no’s we turned into exciting yes’s.
I hope you think of the School of Mom & Dad and the frustrating but magical year of unknowns.
We aren’t going to get it right all the time but we are so grateful to you for rolling with it anyways.
So welcome to the first day of school my baby. I’m so ready to learn from you ♥️