Moving
Into his backpack went his cumulative work journal and his set of emergency clothes. We took his picture off the wall and put that into his backpack as well. I helped him put the backpack on.
He tried to give me his string of extra-large pop beads, his favorite toy at school. I told him he could keep them. He looked at me quizzically and went to put them in his cubby. “Wook!” He exclaimed pointing at the empty shelf. “Aww gone!”
I agreed with him but didn’t try to explain again. “Let’s go for a walk,” I said and held out my hand. His little brown fingers curled around mine. “Waag,” he said. “Go for waag.”
We left the classroom and walked across campus hand-in-hand. As usual he chattered away. Most of his discourse was bits of song. We got to the office and I reached for the door. “Obbus,” he said.
“Mom’s here,” I told him.
“Mob?” A smile lit his face.
Once inside his hand passed from mine to hers. I knelt in front of him and said good bye. Just like every afternoon before leaving, he gave me a hug.
I hugged him back — maybe just a little too long and a little too tight. He wiggled away.
“Bye,” he said. “See ‘ou tamarbo.” And he left me there with tears in my eyes.
11 Comments
*sigh*
Easy to get attached to little ones isn’t it……..I would have a hard time being a teacher, and getting new students every year and having to say goodby to them each year.
*snif* … awwwwwww…. *snif*
OC — I don’t know where parents get the notion that they can just take their babies away without consulting me.
Nea — perhaps because it is a known cycle, I have little trouble saying good-bye at the end of the year, but unexpected leaving in the middle breaks my heart.
Melli — yeah.
Well there you go again leaving me in a puddle of tears. I hate goodbyes
🙁 and am not very good at composing myself each time I practice that repeat performance!
oohhhh… moving indeed!
You fogged my glasses.
Pauline — “good-bye” is rarely one of my treasured words.
Polona — thank you.
Dr. John — well, living through it fogged mine!
It breaks my heart to think of what will happen when he finally realises that he’s not coming back.
Mumma — that’s what most broke my heart. Yesterday I kept imagining his shock and bewilderment at being taken to a new school.
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