Beginnings

Last week I felt as though I were protesting the start of a new school year with all my might (kind of like an upset toddler screaming and kicking and flailing about, except that it was all going on inside my head instead of in the middle of a grocery store aisle).  Noah had been placed in a 7/8 split class that was a very poor fit for him academically and socially; this caused us a great deal of stress and worry in the first two days of school and resulted in a usually non-confrontational me calling the principal and compelling him to reconsider.  Will was feeling anxious about the large volume of homework he already has this year, something he's not used to at all, and I was feeling super flustered over my new morning routine of driving Noah back and forth between two schools, given that half of our city streets are currently torn up for construction and getting to the high school right now involves navigating a labyrinth of traffic cones, orange-vested workers bearing stop signs, long line-ups of cars, and a dead raccoon lying in the middle of the single available lane for good measure. (Poor little raccoon.)  I must have filled out a tree's worth of forms for the boys for school, and I pretty much needed a computer program to keep track of the intricate details of our new carpool schedule for swimming and dance practices this year.  Everything felt difficult and crazy, and I was longing desperately to go back to the just-passed days of summer holidays where things were so much calmer and simpler.

This past weekend, Noah had the rare and fascinating experience of watching a real live baby turtle hatch from an egg.  He had been playing basketball in the school yard with some friends, and one boy mentioned that there were turtle eggs nearing maturity by a creek near his home.  The boys rode their bikes there and were lucky enough to witness the emergence of a tiny turtle from its cracked shell. Noah took a picture of the brand new little creature with his phone and excitedly brought the photo home to show Matt and Will and me.  We all marveled at the wonder of the beginning of life, a phenomenon that happens countless times over each and every day in the world, yet somehow never seems to lose its magic.

This week I've gained a better perspective on September and all of its strangeness; the month is a hopeful beginning of its own.  There are signs everywhere that it is time to move on:  the leaves are already changing colour on some of the trees that line our street, and the cool evening breeze whispers autumn as it rushes by.  Though it may seem safer and more comfortable to stay within the peaceful haven of summer's shell, the ever-spinning world outside it beckons us, promising new discoveries and new joys if we can persevere through the challenges of the unfamiliar.  This week I'm embracing what is happening now instead of looking longingly behind us.  I'm finding ways to make the new reality feel good for us, and I'm excited about the growing that a bustling year will allow each of us to do.  Even though these chances for a fresh start happen over and over again as August turns to September each year, I want to remember always to see the magic in them.