This is That Day

This is that day.

That day you think about when your first child walks into a Kindergarten class and you think, No way! No way are they old enough to just walk away from me and spend even half of every day with some stranger I know nothing about. 
The day you think about when the second and the third and the fourth one start school; the one you think about when your oldest child enters high school and still there are little ones clinging to your knees, reassuring you that even though half your progeny are taller and broader and maybe even smarter than you–you're not really that old; the proof, after all, is barfing on your shoe.
This is the day your last child gets on the school bus and you know he is going to be gone all day. 

All of your children are gone. All day. What will you do with yourself?  
I have to confess I have fantasized about this day. It falls kind of flat, now that I have other people's progeny barfing on my shoe; I know exactly what I'm going to do with myself all day.  But still. There is the awareness there–I'm at that stage of life. We could conceivably take a day off sometime, and we could do whatever we want!  Could. Probably not going to. But the possibility is there, isn't it?
Surreal. I should have taken this day off, just to give shine to all those dusty daydreams.

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