She held my hand tightly, as we waited for her name to be called. I looked down at her fingers, intertwined in mine. Slight traces of once deep dimples sprinkled her tiny knuckles. She wore her favorite adjustable ring on her pointer finger. Why had I not noticed that before?
“Mom, it’s time!” she stage-whispered to me, as we took our place in line. She fidgeted nervously, as she walked by my side down the aisle, still holding tightly to my hand. I smiled at her, and squeezed her hand. She looked up at me and smiled back, adjusting her little white cap. We took our place on the stage. Flashes of light were temporarily blinding. Cherished memories, to be placed in scrapbooks.
We took our seats again. I felt her breathe a sigh of relief, as she placed her head on my shoulder. I watched as other families, applauded their graduates. Finally, it was time for the homeschooled Seniors.
A slideshow was presented, showing each graduate, from birth up to the present. Eighteen years, passed in just a few minutes.
I looked down at the tiny blonde head beside me. In the blink of an eye, I will be putting together pictures for her high school graduation. Will she still hold my hand tightly? Will she rest her head against my shoulder? Will I be able to hold the tears back?
Congratulations, my baby girl. You’ve just graduated from Kindergarten. We are so very proud of the sweet girl you are. You are a bright light to everyone around you.
And as a post-note, later in the evening, I caught this same sweet pink-flowery-dress wearing angel, in a belly crawl on the ladies bathroom floor, scurrying under the door in an attempt to scare her older sister seated in the stall.
Pray for me.