My greatest safety fear when LittleDavyOne started school was that her backpack would tip her over. She was tiny and it was large, and it had to carry a bewildering array of essential pens and books and stuffed animals and a lunchbox of staggering complexity.
When LittleDavyTwo completed her final school prizegiving last night there was a similar safety fear. She did well – very well – and it took two of us to carry the certificates and awards to the car.
Many people shook my hand and said “You must be very proud.” But pride is not quite right. It suggests some ownership of her accomplishments, when they are all hers alone.
Pleased, yes, that her diligence and hard work had produced the outcomes she wanted. But I would say that of all the young women who walked across the stage. (And wonderful to see in one swoop the transition that happens from hesitant Year 9 to striding Year 13.)
No, my real emotion is wonder. LittleDavyTwo’s talents are not mine: I cannot claim any responsibility, or even much understanding. (Beowulf? Particle physics? Calculus is a very dim memory.) But I love to see flowers blossoming, even if I don’t know botany.
And then a sense of loss as this stage of life comes to a close. Or better, that moment of reaching the top of a mountain pass and seeing a whole new vista ahead.
Still walking. Walking with MrsDavy.