The Giving Tree

As I was in the shower this morning,

I was thinking of how all my kids are growing up.

In particular, I was thinking of Kate

and her spectacular start to her Freshman year of high school.

She has thrown herself into the experience full tilt

and has surpassed my wildest expectations in her ability to get involved,

meet people and make friends.

I was also thinking that by this time next year,

she will be taking PSAT Prep classes,

preparing the take the PSAT for the first time,

and that we would be planning weekend trips to visit area colleges,

as well as a spring or summer trip to Vanderbilt.

Thinking these thoughts,

I was awash in equal parts with pride and sorrow.

It reminded me of a spring day in our old house.

Rob and I were on the screened porch,

baby Trey in our arms.

Kate was standing before us in her little school uniform.

Her front teeth were missing, her hair was disheveled.

She was all of about six years old.

In her hands she held the book The Giving Tree

and she was reading the story aloud to us.

Rob and I sat there and as we listened,

tears began to seep from our eyes and roll down our cheeks.

By the time she reached the end of the story,

we were both full out weeping.

As a child, the poignancy of the story is missed

but as adults, the meaning of the story hit us right between the eyes.

Even as we held our youngest babe in our arms,

he too was growing up and away,

just as our gap toothed child who stood before us.

Only a short time ago, she had been our babe in arms.

And now, my babe is less than a handful of years

from flying the nest and continuing her indomitable journey

toward all life will have to offer her.