Stealing those final few minutes while waving goodbye

It’s been a bit of an ongoing joke that I’ve had with some teachers since the kids began school that I linger a little longer than some. I would drop them off and wait for the final waves as they went into the school. As the years have gone by, and they have gotten older, I naturally couldn’t wave to each kid as they went into class, both going in different doors and all. So now I wait with the youngest, those final few moments are mine to steal.

There’s always a few of us parents, the waver-goodbyers. It’s been the same crew since JK really. We bring our kids to school and wait for our goodbyes. We don’t make apologies about it, it’s become a tradition that none of us really are ready to give up.

But I recognize that these days are numbered. This year, the youngest goes in a door that leads to an upstairs with a window where she makes the final wave. We blow kisses and smile at each other. But most of the time the kids go in the doors and to their class, no gallery window available. So I’m enjoying the lingering. Even in the cold of winter when I said “I won’t stay to watch you go in”. But we both knew that was a lie. Of course I stayed.

This is more for me than her, let’s be honest (and most of you readers likely guessed that already). I can see her through the window, chatting away with friends, her confidence in her movements clear even as I stand beneath her, and she remembers I’m there. She turns with her trademark smile and a waves goodbye. More kisses blown. I walk away.

These are the moments I want to remember. They are the same ones I had with my first, watching him go into the school each day and smiling goodbye. But they feel different with her. There’s a weight of finality that comes with her goodbyes knowing that as my last child, my school waving days are coming to an end. I still get a kiss and a hug from her older brother as he makes his way to his circle of friends gathered in the morning, but I walk away from him (as I bring her to the door) rather than the other way around.

These goodbyes have been a privilege, the result of my ability to bring the kids to school myself and take my time before heading home. I will miss them, and next year, she likely won’t have the window to peer out and wave. But for now, I am making no apologies as I wait with the few other parents, look up to the window and give a smile and a wave.

Every wave holds the meaning that I’m not just saying goodbye to them for the school day; it’s a piece of a goodbye to the days when they were younger and needed me more. Now, I stay because I need it. I wonder if there will be a time when I won’t and what that feels like. But for now, I know these moments won’t last forever. And I’ll cherish everyone of them.