Letter to My Child on His First Day of Preschool

Once again, it’s time to let go. It’s time to let you go out into the world that, for someone like you, can be a very uncertain and even scary place. I used to be afraid of this day because I thought that you were somehow fragile. But I’ve come to see that you are anything but. You have a spirit that refuses to be frightened. You have an enthusiasm that is defiant of the dangers you face. You have an ease that inspires even the most cynical parts of me. You are my muse.

Little 7 years old boy going to school with his mother

This is because you trust the world. And you are right to. It will take care of you just as it always has.

I’ve known this to be true from your very first moments. Surrounded by tubes and wires as you were, I couldn’t reach you or do anything to make you better. But the world could. And it did. It was incredibly humbling, being forced to let go. Those other people out in the world took you gently from me for a time. After they had worked their miracle, they brought you out of your plastic shell and put you back in my arms, somehow even better than you were before – as if that were ever even possible.

The world did that. Those other people out in the world did that. They were there for you then and they will be there for you again, should you ever need them.

So now, I put you back out into that same world, sure it will catch you and care for you. It will thrill and amaze you and then bring you back safely to me (just as it always has), somehow even better than you are now- as if that could ever even be possible.

I’m not your only savior. I know that. It is narcissistic to think that I could be. I am one of many capable and loving people that you will meet out there in that world. I am one of many in this village who will care for you if you need it.

“It takes a village”, they say. “The village doesn’t exist anymore”, we say. But we are wrong. It does exist. It is just up to us to decide to let you go out into it and to allow that village to come into your life and keep you safe and dazzle you. It will. I promise. It has done so for me.

So go on, my baby. Trust it. Love it. Participate in it. It will take care of you. It will hold you in its arms while you are out there realizing its vast capacity for good. And my arms will be here waiting to be joyful with you when you discover firsthand all the wonder that it holds.

 

 

Rachel is a Masters Degree-holding feminist who also happens to be a full-time Residential CEO (aka stay-at-home mom, yippie!). She lives in the South Metro with her husband and two loud sons. She drinks way too much coffee every single day.

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