hOMe yoga

After three long years in preschool, my son participated in his first graduation ceremony today. He wore a construction paper mortarboard and stood on a stage made from a child’s wooden boat. His teachers spoke proudly of him. They remarked on his love of history, science and engineering. They said he was the elder statesman of the preschool. I wildly snapped pictures and probably went way overboard for what is appropriate for such an occasion. To me, this night was another big lesson in aparigraha (non-attachment.) As his parent, it is my job to propel him forward to this night and many others like it. As always, I find it hard to let go of my memories of his plush, plump babyhood; of his fits; of his sweetness; of his incredible intenseness and light. I held off tears until later in the evening. When he saw me, he knew these were tears of joy, pride, and even vanity. He wiped my face and said wisely, “Mom, if I stayed your 4 year old, then I would not be able to do cool things like go to Dinosaur Camp.” He is right. Parents must watch as their kids whisk away like seed pods seeking a spot to take root and grow into a tree. While I do look forward to seeing that tree stand tall, I hate it when I am just soaking in the perfection of that dandelion and suddenly, the wind whips up and before I am ready, all those little whisps fly off, just beyond my reach.  I am just left holding a little green stem, wishing I had that fleeting moment back.