As we strolled and chatted, I had a rather jarring thought: since the elementary school's regular schedule begins next week and he'll be getting out shortly before I'll need to drive to the middle school to pick up Isaac and wait for Abby --and next year he'll be on the normal schedule from the very first day of school (sorry, it's super complicated so I'm not even going to try to explain how the educational system here operates)--, it's possible that it may have been our very last walk home from elementary school.
It may not sound like a big thing, but in my mind, it's not just big -- it's huge. I remember pushing Logan and Isaac in the big, cumbersome double stroller when Abby was in kindergarten. I remember listening to Logan chirp the make of each car that passed by and how he'd cheerfully point out those of the 'zoom' variety, and I remember our chats with mail carrier Randy, who always, always stopped his truck to talk to Logan. (They had such an amazing rapport. I'll never forget the look on Randy's face when he came to our door after we'd stopped walking to school in the fall of 2010 and I had to tell him that his buddy was seriously ill.) Then Brady was added to the mix and the seats in the stroller were shuffled, with all of my children moving --revolving door style-- from one spot to the next, over and over again. It was chaos; beautiful, beautiful chaos. And then the time came when Logan no longer needed a seat and still we walked on, talking and sharing and laughing and remembering what was. And hoping for what would be in the future.
Yup, we've probably walked hundreds of miles along that same route, over and over again, year in and year out. We've walked in heat and through surprise showers that turned even the most wizened of us into youthful puddle-jumpers and with friends and alone. And although part of me is sad that those days are coming to a close, most of me is grateful --and deeply so-- to have had those walks with my kids throughout their early years.
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