Hearts

It is 1am and I sit in the quiet in the middle of a mound of school supplies. Marking pencils, markers and crayons. M-a-l-a-k-a-i. M-a-l-a-k-a-i. My thoughts wander as I mark. M-a-l-a-k-a-i. Kai when he was tiny, trying to run laps around the kitchen. He had to slow down when he went around the corners, his belly making an appearance well before his sweet face. M-a-l-a-k-a-i.
I move on to the next pile. M-e-r-o-n on the pencil box. I wanted to get her a prettier color, but they only had black. My first failing of the school year. M-e-r-o-n. Kindergarten this year. I thought it wouldn't be a big deal. She has been going to preschool. Somehow Kindergarten is different. M-e-r-o-n. Sweet little baby being placed in my arms. A hundred lazy days spent exploring in the park.  Sweet little head nestled under my chin. M-e-r-o-n. Before I know it, I am drawing hearts after her name. Rows of hearts on the pencils and markers and the black pencil box. M-e-r-o-n heart. She always needed me so much. I was the most important thing in the world to her. She is groaning with the need to expand now. Claiming her independence. Wanting to stand on her own. It makes me proud. And devastated. Who am I when they don't need me anymore? M-e-r-o-n heart.  Tiny hand in mine, whispered lullabies, a thousand sticky hugs and kisses. M-e-r-o-n heart. On to the next pile. H-a-n-a heart.  Her shy smile, leading me upstairs to show me her room at a crowded care center in Addis Ababa. Teaching her how to dance. Watching her feel the snow for the first time. Singing together as we drive, finally finding some common ground and our connection after a rough day.

There are forms to be filled out. What are your child's strengths? With what do they struggle? What is one thing you enjoy about your child? How do I tell their teachers? How do I tell them everything they need to know? How do I tell them who these small people are? How do I convey how important they are? How precious? Are they going to understand that Kai is smart and wants to be well behaved, but that he needs to be moving and doing to learn?
Will they realize that Hana has no emotional armor and that her vulnerable, naked feelings are so easily damaged by a harsh or critical word?
Will they realize that Meron's pride is  complicated and crucial and make allowances for that?
Will these teachers keep these precious people safe?  Understand them and love them? Help them or damage them?
In the morning I will have to put on my happy and excited face, but for now I sit in the quiet. Tears streaming down my face. Preparing to take this next step towards letting go of these hearts of mine. These hearts that exist farther and farther from my body.