There he was, the he being my first born son, L. We hung up his backpack and headed for his classroom. As soon as he entered, he was gone. Happily he joined the others already there playing. He didn't even turn around to see if I was still there. I waited a moment or two, assured that my son was capable and independent, and then called his name, "L, come give mommy a hug and kiss before I go". Thankfully, he heard me, came over with this big smile and quickly complied. Then as soon as I let go, he bounded back to where he was before. I turned with a half smile and walked out of the room. I did walk around to the windows of his classroom as looked on as he was going from one play area to the next. He was completely fine and then it hit, me. The tears welled up in my eyes and chocked my throat.
This was the beginning of many more independent moments. Independence was always my goal in raising him, but it does sting non-the-less when it happens. My son did just what I did to my mother. I took the teacher's hand and walked right in the room saying, "Bye mommy". She gently reminded me of this fact last night. I smiled knowing that my son would do the same.
Raising children does take some strength and tears along the way.