Kindergarten

I loved it. Loved meeting all the people my age, loved the teacher, Mrs. Hintz. Loved the school, and the things we did, the songs we sang, the games we played. Loved that I was student of the month, once, for no apparent reason other than I was in kindergarten.

My first day, I was a little nervous. Everyone kept telling me that everything would be ok, that I would have so much fun, and meet so many new friends.. in a way, it was pressure. I feel silly admitting it, but I distinctly remember feeling pressure from the reassurances my family gave me.

Mom didn't help. When she walked me to school, my first day, she tried to reassure me, told me that everything was going to be fine, that I'd have so much fun, that it would be great. Except, when it comes from her mouth, sometimes it has a much more watery tone to it. Blubbery, some might say. Not I, because I don't talk about my mother in that way. Just some. I think it was because of that tone, that I treated kindergarten like I did.

I think that everyone had one of me in their class. I was that little girl who sat in the window and cried every morning. I was the one who watched her mama walk away and bawled, every single morning. I wouldn't let her think that it was easy for me to stay, but the second she was out of sight, I was fine. I knew it was ok, but I thought that she expected it to be sad, because she was crying.. so I made sure she thought it was sad for me, too.

When/If I ever have a kid, I will not be watery. I will be happy, and save my bawling for when I'm safely out of earshot/eyesight. This is my vow.