our P1's first day of school

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There's a photograph of Will and I standing on the steps at Windrush, lunchbox in hand, and clad in white shirts and khaki shorts.  It was our first day at Saltus and I can remember it to this day.  I remember walking into the classroom with a very different kind of trepidation than I feel in similar situations now.  It was the kind of anxiety that could be quelled with one word of comfort from my Mum.  So here was Schuyler.  Already a seasoned Somersfield student with a bevy of girl friends and heading of into the uniformed world of P1s.  She was now the Big Kid in her class with responsibility for the layers of younger kids in her class.  There's no good reason why this moment should feel like such a watershed - after all, it's just a different set of clothes - but it does feel that way.  She's joined the bottom of the big school and will rise (hopefully) up through it from here on out. She seems proud, like she somehow gets that this is now different.  But she won't be prouder than we are.  I look at the beaming smiles in these photos and I want to bottle it up so she can have that proud glee whenever she wants.  Who wouldn't want to feel that way all the time?