I was completing one of the million errands I need to run for your brothers, the house, or the refrigerator. Is was after 11 a.m., and there you all were, outside for noon recess, scattered in chaotic-ordered groups around the baseball diamond, the open green fields, or clustered around the buildings. Not thinking there was even a chance of spotting you, I did see you. You were in that group around the baseball diamond. My little boy… out there in the world.
It wasn’t until hours later, when I was fast asleep, that I awoke with a start and realized the very real truth about that brief moment of seeing you standing there.
That was probably the very last time in your life that I will ever see you on a playground, when it is age-appropriate for them to say about you “playing is a form of learning.” You’ll be leaving this elementary school far behind in just a few short days. And this will be the end of recess.
But I saw you. I caught of glimpse of you, and into the window of the world that is closing soon.