Dear sweet son of mine,
I am writing to let you know that last night, I had a nightmare–
a nightmare about YOU and all my subconscious fears.
It was a nightmare that scared me awake and left me breathless;
a nightmare that left me with anxious thoughts, a sweaty brow, and yucky feelings;
a nightmare with scary “monsters” and really “dark” moments.
It was a nightmare where I was forced to let go of your hand and trust–
a nightmare where I was out of control and really sad;
a nightmare where I couldn’t prevent the change and couldn’t hold the time.
It was a nightmare where I watched you walk those halls alone on your little, tiny legs–
a nightmare where you sat among a sea of unfamiliar faces with unknown names;
a nightmare where I could see and feel and taste your fear but couldn’t stop it.
It was a nightmare where you were face to the face with the “awkward” and “hard”–
a nightmare where you were beyond your comforts and out of your box;
a nightmare where your world got bigger…much, MUCH bigger.
It was a nightmare where I sat trapped like a fly on the big, white wall–
a nightmare where I followed you all day long…through song, and lunch, and story;
a nightmare where I anticipated the “bad” and feared the “worst” at every turn and hour.
It was a nightmare that truly looked and felt like a hot, September day.
But at the end of the nightmare, when I woke with a gasp and startled with a stutter–
I realized that though my nightmare felt like a very real thing,
none of my “nightmare” ever came true.
“But how can that be?” you ask with wonder.
Well, let me tell you and then you’ll see.
For at the very end of the dream…at the very end of your day…
you looked up from that seat of yours–the one with your name tag, pencil, and glue–
and smiled with happy tears in your eyes, “It’s okay, Mommy…I really love it here.”
So what was all that “nightmare” about, the one with all the fear and doubt?
It was truly silly, sweet son of mine, but I had a dream about your first day of school.