Senior year is officially under way.
Catherine is no longer a “rising senior”; she’s the real deal.
The bus just ferried her away. I hid among the trees and bushes and snapped this photo of her walking to the bus stop:
And then I stood in the yard and watched until I couldn’t see the bus any longer.
Under the circumstances, I think I showed incredible restraint.
I wanted to walk with her this morning — had even showered and dressed so I wouldn’t offend — but she made it clear that was not OK. (Basil offered to accompany her wearing his pajamas, but that was also forbidden.)
I didn’t stand on the corner and wave as I used to when the middle school bus went past our driveway.
And I won’t sit on the front lawn in a beach chair waiting for her return as I did the first day of sixth grade when it turned out she got off at the wrong bus stop.
This morning there was hair. And makeup. And a cute new outfit. Preparations were lengthy and intense; the result was breathtaking, and I’m betting it’s not just the Mom in me talking:
It’s a big year, full of exciting milestones and experiences for her. My heart is bursting just thinking about it all.
And yet, in my mind’s eye, the Catherine who walked to the bus stop this morning still looked like this: