September 2006

Guess what today is Mom? It’s the first day of my last year in high school!

Seven years ago my daughter made that bubbly pronouncement standing at the bottom of the stairs. Wearing her plaid, pleated uniform skirt, the same plaid she had worn every school day for eleven years, she looked all of ten.

She looked all of twenty.

The screen door slapped shut as she rushed down the porch steps to begin her senior year of high school. I choked back tears. Caught completely off guard, I stared at my gluten-free cereal and wondered what had happened to my life.

Senior year was the busiest of all. Add to her regular school and church activities, a string of pre-graduation events followed—barbecues, teas, lunches—one a month it seemed. Each function came with parent committees and meetings, participation costs and new cute outfits. Factor into this equation multiple college applications, essays and college visits, there was no time to blink or think or sleep.

I’m convinced the school did everything possible to exhaust and numb senior parents, a sort of coping strategy. When the day arrived and our babies walked across the stage, there were no tears or twangs of bittersweet memories but only a collective sigh from the audience. Someone shouted hallelujah from the back corner. Maybe it was me.

The exhausting year was finally over.

Seven years ago, my son began eighth grade. Middle school was tough and different. Add to his regular school and church activities, he (and the entire family) was consumed with boy scouts, juggling merit badges with homework, campouts with sporting events. He had his eye on the Eagle.

And let’s not forget the trumpet. My son played the trumpet. The trumpet is loud.

Life was good.

Life was hectic.

What were you doing seven years ago?

Along with eighty-something other writers, I am participating in the Write Tribe Seven Day Blogging event beginning today, September 1. 

The twist of this event is that I signed up without knowing the writing prompt. 

Seven days before the first post was due, I learned the prompt was the number seven. 

morgueFile

Hmmmm. There are no rules or guidelines for this challenge, other than for seven days in a row, write something associated with the number seven. I like rules. I prefer rules. Give me seven rules, and I’ll nail them. No rules is an intimidating proposition.

For seven days I’ve been thinking of dropping out, my typical safe reaction. Born in the seventh month under the astrological sign of Cancer, I prefer to hide in my shell, retreat to home base. That’s what we Cancers do.

For Post One, I thought I’d start with the number itself. Seven is often considered the most significant of all numbers, full of magic and mystery and superstition, the number most often repeated in the natural world. In the Bible, seven is the number of wholeness, completion, perfection.