It’s been the same drill nearly every school-day morning for the past seven years. Seven straight years of my heading out the door at 7:15 — my teeth occasionally, my hair always, unbrushed. But it doesn’t matter how harried the lunch packing and appropriate shoe finding is (today is a gym day and she doesn’t remember where she left her sneakers), I always look forward to joining my daughter on her walk to school. It’s not just our morning routine. It’s closer to ritual.
Today she walks with her fifth-grade-girl posse, discussing elaborate after-school plans. I walk with my mom posse, discussing carpools and ear infections. Even the dog has his posse. I’m not sure what they’re discussing, but it is discussed very loudly. I couldn’t avoid being in the moment if I tried.
I had a meeting this morning and wasn’t able to walk the whole way to Randall, just up to the corner of Commonwealth and Prospect. As I turned around and walked home alone against third through fifth grade “traffic,” I realized that next year, when she, my youngest, goes by bus to middle school, I am going to have to figure out a new way to ground #MyMadisonDay. Especially #MyMadisonMornings.
– Sari Judge