On the Eve of Kindergarten

My mother spoke the best advice she ever gave me on the night before I started kindergarten. The room was dark; my covers were up. I can only assume I had been put to bed, and then called back to her. I was crying because I didn't want to go to kindergarten; I was scared.

She said, "Don't cry about tomorrow until it gets here. And if, when you get to class and realize your teacher is as mean as your mama, then you can cry." She was, of course, joking. But I have thought about that many times during my life. Don't cry about what might happen or if something will be scary . . . because, well, it may never actually happen. Yet, when the worst does come, it is okay to mourn it. Oh, and a little humor goes a long way.

Here I am again on the eve of kindergarten.

I may or may not be crying (that is code for "I'm crying"). I cannot, though, think of this new season without remembering my mother's words. So, while I am sad about the realities Anna will soon encounter, grieving the loss of those many days at home, and wondering how in the world we are going to adjust to this new routine, in a weird twist of fate, I miss my mom tonight.

If only she were here -- happy and healthy -- to celebrate this milestone in her namesake's life. Anna will own kindergarten, and love every social minute of it. I can't wait to cheer her along.

Mrs. Cook did not turn out to be as mean as my mother. She was a delight, filling my first year of school with many happy and fun memories. I know Anna Zane's teacher will do the same.

But what gives me comfort is knowing that tonight I want my mom, no matter how cool Mrs. Cook was. I know Anna will always find home in me, even if her teacher has a jar of lollipops on her desk.