Time of their lives

You know the song from Green Day? It would have been so appropriate if they played that at the end of the kindergarten graduation concert, and that would surely bring tears to every parent's eyes, including mine.

Our little kids are growing up right in front of us, on that stage, as they dance, and sing, and perform. Months of practise and training, culminating in 2 hours of Broadway + High School Musical. Pure magic. Not flawless, but every imperfection perfect in its own right, highlighting each child’s uniqueness, confidence and willingness to be out there in the spotlight for the world to see, and unafraid to fail.

I wonder if all the effort was for the audience, or really for themselves. The teachers, of course, have the parents in mind as they choreograph each move, time each beat to ensure every little foot and hand rocks to the same rhythm. The kids, on the other hand, are just having a blast - not thinking about tomorrow, or the past. In their eternal youth, their energy belongs in the here and now, and so it rightly should. On that stage (and even in their numerous rehearsals), their radiance, their brilliant smiles, their cheekiness shines through. I felt a huge amount of ability, focus and maturity growing within their little hearts and minds. These really can’t be kindergarten kids, could they?

But it is also Farewell. To the life she has known almost half her life, in a small protected school, her friends (some of them whom might come along with her), teachers of the last three years, the friendly playground, the fun classrooms. It will take her a few years, maybe decades, but she will long for the days. She will think back, reminisce and wonder, in her distant memory, where those years went. A blurry hue will form around faint images of a life one lived, childish conversations on the steps while waiting for class to begin or her mummy to come get her. Everything will be in sepia, and the sound of children’s laughter and chattering will form the soundtrack.

I’m already missing those days on her behalf and I remember that little girl that was scared of school and would begin crying even before we said goodbye, but would somehow transform into a cheerful bright-eyed princess who didn’t want to leave at the end.

I will continue to cherish the thought that just like her brother and sister, they will continue to brighten our days, no matter how old, stubborn, naughty they get and that deep in their beings I can sometimes still see hints of the little babies that they once were, and I hope that  never goes away.