First Day of School

Color in my world will be temporarily sucked away as lines of yellow school buses rumble through country roads and highways to splash the insides of those brick and glass buildings called schools with the paint of my world.

Each year I face the first day of school with more dread than the last. Years ago, back in the dark ages, the dread was for myself as a student. My world now consists of 8 grandchildren who have grown another year older. Surely an entire year has not passed. But, yes, the months flew by like straight line winds. One by one, the top of each grandchild's head surpasses mine.

The brilliant colors of their young lives deepen into rich colors as they muture (snicker) into teenagers. I snicker because teenager and mature are rarely used in the same sentence.

Holding each of the grandchildren as infants, I thought my heart was as swollen with love as it could be. But as I watch the color of their lives deepen, I find that my heart deepens with them.

So, from 7:30 in the morning until 4:00 in the afternoon, my world dims. My house gets cleaned better, the dog gets walked more, I make too many trips to the grocery store, I even mow the lawn too much.

The rumble of yellow begins. The rainbows of my life are free until 7:30 tomorrow morning. I smile.

Nellotie Porter Chastain
Grandmother of Cody, Sami, Taylor, Caleb, Mitchell, Emma, and Silas