First day of kindergarten
The night before kindergarten started, you fell asleep with your hand in mine, beneath your baby blanket that didn't cover your legs, and your head on your "Go," the stuffed helicopter you had since you were a toddler. It felt too much, too soon. Weren't you still my baby boy? It's clear we have you only for a time. You are borrowed. You belong to God, but this time with you is a gift He wants us to have.