Here it is. The day before the first day of the last year of homeschooling my second child. It’s different than how I felt at the beginning of my eldest’s senior year. I actually think I’m a bit more melancholy this time.
I’m anticipating the tears, all of the “last times”, and the worry that I haven’t done enough to prepare her for life. Sigh. Here we go again.
But this time it’s different.
It’s different because this is a different daughter. She used to be the baby. The little sister. My little Mary Sunshine. The morning person with a smile on her face. Then she lost the baby-of-the-family-position to her little brother and became a middle child.
Yet, she is still the baby girl, my baby girl, even though she is a high school senior and almost all grown up. She is independence mixed with shyness, and feistiness beneath the sweetness. Humor and orneriness have peeked out of those eyes since the day she was born.
Being the second born means she has done or experienced some things earlier in life than her older sister. They did so many things together, until the first one graduated from high school. Then my youngest girl grew more feathers on her wings and learned to fly on her own.
Homeschooling this senior is also different because she is taking a college class this semester.
Although dual enrollment is a popular option, it actually wasn’t in our original plans. Then mid-way through her junior year it became an idea that appealed to us. Starting college as she counts down her senior year in high school makes me cry. The first tears of the last year of homeschooling this lovely girl.
Our homeschool was not ever perfect.
No surprise there! Whose is? No school, public or private, is ever perfect. Perfection does not exist this side of heaven. Thank God! God has always known what we, as her parents, lack. And He fills the gap. God is the great completer of her life.
This year will fly by.
I know that, but I also know that there will be moments in time, lots of things to do and “senior” plans to make, memories in the making. Moments when time stands still as I look at my baby girl. The first tears of the last year have been shed. I know there will be more and my daughter will roll her eyes at me and say, in THAT voice, “Mom.” I suppose I will miss that soon, too.
