25 years of running a daycare equals many children passing through my door. It also equals lots of heartaches, tears, joy, and many good-byes only shadowed by the love for each child.
Most families would start and finish daycare with me. For some, that could mean 13 plus years of working together to raise their children. No matter the amount of time, all the children are etched securely in my heart. It’s a love that is quick and plentiful. You can’t spend time with children and not love them.
The downside to my job is eventually I become a memory. It use to bother me, but you get use to it, most of the time, sometimes.
Social media has afforded me the luxury to watch many of them grow up. But it also brings a loneliness of knowing even though you spent a great deal of time with them, you are no longer an important part anymore. No more invites, no more visits, no more phone calls, no more mentions of your time with them. Just a memory.
Every year during Graduation I look in the paper to see how many of “my kids” graduated. My pride soars with every award they win, scholarships, and class Valedictorians. Every year I feel forgotten. Every year I cheer for them from the sidelines.
One particular year, a group of my daycare children graduated. I had decided instead of mooning over the lost years, I was going to “partake of some spirits” with my family around our backyard fire pit, leaving my phone in my pocket. It was nice, needed, and it took my mind off of everything.
The fire was crackling, and the conversation was good for the soul. My husband turns and says to me, “you might want to check out your phone you were tagged in something”
For the first time my little group of graduating children remembered me. They posted a picture of them all standing together in their grad outfits with the title “This one is for Kathy”. I have never cried so hard.