One More Semester

My grandchildren just had their semester break last week, signaling the halfway point of the school year. It’s a significant time for each of them, which makes it meaningful for all of us who love them. Patience is a senior in high school. Only one more semester before she graduates, and moves on to the almost-adult stage, although she might think she’s closer than almost. Serenity is an eighth grader, so this is her final semester of middle school before she heads off to high school, a shift that will be a little easier for her, as the Arts school she goes to is a combined middle and high school. And Courage, who is a fifth grader, only has one semester left in elementary school. Next year he will move on from the one-teacher, relationship-rich environment of grade school into what is arguably the most fraught time of anyone’s life—middle school/junior high. All of these next-steps for the kids bring possibilities for growth, anxiety, challenge, fun, and fear. I can’t believe these milestones are almost a reality for each of them. I made these transitions decades ago, and they are still clear in my mind. It shows what a large role they play in a person’s life. Will they remember these days as well as I remember mine?

It is bittersweet (and such a privilege!) to watch them grow. It continues to be a delight to witness, first-hand, them become their own selves. Just as when my own kids were growing up, each new stage brings a variety of activities and interactions that make my life interesting and fun. But I also miss the little people who ran to me when I walked through the door, automatically held my hand in a parking lot, or walked backward as they pulled me into their rooms to show me something. That kind of “Nana’s here!” enthusiasm wanes as their worlds become larger. They have friends, responsibilities, and their own dreams. It’s the way it’s supposed to be. I absolutely want it to be this way. There are parents and families who have lost a young child and will never be able to flashback to the toddler while they’re looking at the teenager. There are children who may be challenged physically or academically, perhaps never able to strike out on their own. I am fortunate. I get to wish they’d slow down. I get to watch as the usual order of progression takes place. I get to feel wistful when I say I remember when. But, still—it is going way too fast. There will always be a place where those high-pitched, giggly little voices echo in my heart.

And then there is this—John should be here. He should be witnessing all of these events and missing the babies he used to carry around in his front pack to get the mail. I should still be able to look over at him and remind him of the way Serenity jumped up and down waiting to be picked up as we came through the door. There is always a place in my heart where his voice echoes, too. And even though that truth goes without saying—I still feel compelled to say it.

One more semester. Life is full of things we are waiting to finish, hoping they will get us from here to whatever there we are working toward. The kids will have many more almost-there moments to transition through, for their parents to guide them through, for all of us to hope for the best for them through. Life isn’t easy. Even in a stable, advantaged life, work gets overwhelming, emotions feel raw, and resolve crumbles. For those with coping skills, it is so much easier. I hope theirs will be intact throughout all of their ups and downs. As their grandmother, I will watch and pray they will succeed through the good times and the bad – as I did, as their parents did – overcoming and learning from pressures and hurdles encountered along the way. There will be many; it’s inevitable. May they always have the sense of humor, temperament, and coping skills to help forge who they become.

For now, though, they still have one more semester – of high school, middle school, and elementary. I need to remember the beauty of all of this. I’ve been privileged to watch what’s happened so far. I’ve witnessed all the action and all the transformations. An extremely shy and reticent individual now plays three instruments and takes her place with classmates and friends in team sports we never thought she’d be interested in joining. By the time she graduates this spring, she will be just a few credits shy of her college AA degree; and she’s accomplished it all while staying active in sports and music. Then there’s the middle child, the one who threw two-year-old tantrums of epic proportions. When she was three, she sounded like a teenager, using the word awkward appropriately, as if she were a character in a sitcom. She is now a socially adept individual with the kindest heart, plays the piano, and is artistic beyond measure. And not least is the little boy no one could understand until he was four, even though he talked – a lot. I thought he might have trouble learning to read, but I was way off the mark. He was placed in the district program for highly capable students, understanding concepts far beyond his years – and often beyond mine. They are outstanding people, and I appreciate their “them-ness” more every day. Even though I may not be ready for them to hurry on to the next phases of their lives, I know they will be ready when the time comes and when the years dictate.

But until then, let’s celebrate this last hurrah. One more semester, my little sweethearts – I hope it’s a great one!