Last week Friday was a big event for me at school; it was the last day for me to do ‘Kiss and go’, as we fondly call it, at our school. It was the last day this year that I would stand at the long, winding curb, open car doors in the morning, greet the children and tell the parents, cheerfully to ‘have a great day’. I know it is kind of crazy to say that I will miss this morning duty. Getting out in the fresh, frosty air clears my head despite sometimes getting a bit upset if parents stop when they need to pull forward and when they arrive late and impatient. The other day however I noticed something very unusual.
One of the dad’s, right after I opened the car door actually said, “Goodbye son, remember I love you.” I closed the door, watched this young boy walk towards our school door, stop and turn around to make eye contact with his dad still in the car driving around our circle. I watched him as he blew a kiss in his direction. He demonstrated ‘Kiss and go’, a visual example. This is not why I was awestruck. I was awestruck because it is very unusual for me to hear the words, I love you, as parents are leaving their children every morning. And it makes me sad.
Maybe they have excuses, like- that lady is intruding on my personal time, or I’m late for work, or I can’t stand this traffic line I’m in every day at this school. But on this day, at this moment, I worry about it. How many of our children do not hear these words daily in their homes?
In the aftermath of disasters in our country do you ever feel that collective sigh of the people? Does even the traffic flow feel different to you? I noticed more patience and consideration in lines in the flow of the every day, after Sandy Hook, after 9/11. It is almost like the earth has stopped spinning and we walk in other peoples’ lives momentarily. But then it all goes back to the way it was, several weeks later. What could our world become if we all just sat in ‘time out’ just a little longer?
Many, many years back a friend of mine had an older sister that was married. Her husband tragically died in an accident at work. My girlfriend told me that her sister would never be the same because of what she didn’t say the morning her husband left for work. I think you know the words.
In every conversation this year, in person or on the phone,my dad has said to me before he hangs up…”luv ya, luv ya! ” I was a child who grew up in the sixties. Back then, we didn’t usually end our conversations like that, but my dad now has caught on. At 87 he knows that he needs to tell me this every time as we say goodbye. He laughs as he says it, but he knows I need to hear it.
I want to rename our morning duty KISS, LOVE AND GO . I made a new poster in honor of the name change, again I’m going to put it right by my desk. Sometimes a small change can make a big difference!
Let it flow through me, let it flow through me. (flow is my one word this year)