I am not ready for this day just on the horizon, but you are. Tonight, I watched you open and close your new lunchbox over a dozen times. You call it a “lunch pail” and it makes me smile every time. You love your new Frozen backpack and often put it on to show me “it fits so perfectly.” While we were at Target, you excitedly showed other shoppers your new crayons and pencils. When I saw that Target’s summer section was replaced by school supplies, my eyes filled with tears. Other moms smiled at me and nodded hello as their 5^th and 6^th graders picked out binders. They knew, they remembered. I had five summers to prepare for this, but I still wasn’t ready.

For five summers, I knew this one would be our fastest yet. You were only minutes old when my mom looked at you and said to me, “Before you know it, she will be leaving for her first day of kindergarten.” I’ve thought about those words almost every day. Your grandma has been right about a million things, and those words are some of the truest she has ever said.

I watched you and your little sister fall asleep for a nap on Sunday. I curled up on your beanbag, my eyes filling with tears while I listened to you breathe. I realized this was our last weekend of these Sunday naps we shared for five years. “Oh! The Places You’ll Go!” stared back at me from your bookshelf. I know you’re going places, girl. I know. I’m going to be here cheering you on every step of the way.

There’s so much I have left to show you, to teach you. We need to work on mastering those shoe laces and the loose pony tail the way you like it. We need to work on jumping jacks. While my mind is full of things I’m worried that you might not be ready for, I realize it’s me that isn’t ready. I’m not ready for quiet days without you here. I’m not ready for the day you don’t ask for the race car shopping carts at the grocery store. I’m not ready for the first time you don’t want a hug and a kiss good-bye. I’m just not ready for how incredibly much I’m going to miss hanging out with you. I’m not ready, but you are.

I am so excited to share you with the world. This is the end of an era for me, but the beginning of a new one for you. Those days somehow turned into years and now it’s time to send you out in this world.

You’re one of the most incredible kids I’ve ever known. You are a constant happiness in a world that sometimes isn’t. You care so deeply about everyone else. For your 5^th birthday, you asked me to buy food for people who might not have any. You think about everyone else before yourself. You are the greatest big sister to ever be on this earth. You are so exceptionally fun to hang out with. I’m not ready, but you are.

It seems that five is such a young age to release you to the world. Up until now, I’ve had a say in who you play with, who influences the things you say. I’ve helped select your meals and shaped the choices you’ve made. I’m a strong influence in how your likes became your likes. Now it’s up to you.

My heart is overcome by feelings I can’t explain. It is not lost on me how incredibly lucky I am that you get to embark on this childhood passage. We had a friend not come home from St. Jude. He should be starting school this fall, too. So while I am overwhelmed by how hard it will be for me to watch you wave from the playground, I am going to thank God for every second of this, of every moment I get to share with you.

My mind has not yet wrapped itself around how time can go so fast – I have a feeling it never will. I I love you, my sweet girl. You fascinate me every day. I’m not ready to watch that Frozen backpack march down the driveway on the first day, but you are.