Come along, then! We must run a little faster to catch up with our boy. We must chase him down through second and third and fourth grade, past fifth and sixth, all the quick years of primary school, which do not obey the usual rules of time and space, as any mother could tell you. School-time runs separately from usual time, like a certain country on the other side of the Equator, or the other side of a dream. School-time spins up and sputters and whirlwinds, all hopped up and in a hurry. Only once Summer comes round again, with its bindle full of adventures and bendings of rules and unwatched, unfettered, unending days in the sun does time return to its favorite pace, slow and golden and warm.These were the words that I read in Catherynne Valente's The Boy Who Lost Fairyland just as my own boy finished his run through primary school. I'll admit that I was the parent who cried the hardest at that final assembly. All of that time that rushed by caught up with me and, though I thought I had prepared, I still wasn't quite ready for it. When some of his caretakers and friends gave me hugs, I fondly remembered how they were there for him through all the years. And when they showed his baby picture in the end of year slideshow, I couldn't help but miss that tiny boy that I haven't seen in so long. But I was also immensely proud of my Z and his ability to overcome so many obstacles to become a bright and thoughtful and funny young man.
Now we have what I hope will be a glorious summer ahead of us. I am looking forward to adventures and bendings of rules (bedtime for the kiddo has already gone out the window) and a slow and golden and warm pace.
Looking forward into the sun,