A First Day Poem

‘Twas the night before school starts and all through the pad

Every creature was stirring and acting quite mad.

The backpacks were hung on their hooks in great haste, in hopes that these youths would soon vacate this place.

The children were jumping up high on their beds, determined that one should split open her head.

And dad yelling “BED! NOW!” and I in my wine, emotionally broken by a long summertime, said, “whatever I give up you win it’s all fine.”

But with luck and some wheedling the kids achieved slumber,

So I slipped into a fuzzy fleece number.

Then I turned on some music and poured one more splash, and with absolute joy I set to my tasks.

Lunchboxes! Folders! Sharpening pencils! Emergency contacts and whiteboards and stencils! 

I made labels and snacks and coded by hues, dad ironed some shirts whilst I lined up their shoes!

A gorgeous machine we became on this night, all flowing and tidy and timely and light.

“You know that we’ve peaked for the year, right?” said I. “Our gleeful energy won’t stay this high.”

“I give us a week,” said my generous spouse. So I vacuumed and sang as I danced through the house.

In the morning I rose well ahead of the chime. I poked at my husband. “Is it time yet? It’s time!”

We ran to their rooms and so did the pup, who jumped on their beds and woke them all up. 

Bleary and grumbling, they trudged down the hall to fight over the bathroom (which isn’t that small).

After three different breakfasts and a stand-off re: socks, I began shrieking, “Christ look at the clock!

“Get your education! Go be with your peers! Kids, I don’t care where you go, but you cannot stay here.”

Their packs on their backs, they took off for the street, posing briefly for pict— “HEY, put your shoes on your feet!”

As we started again there arose such a roar. The buses were coming! We dashed out the door!

Sprinting and laughing until we felt sick, we arrived at the bus stop right in the nick.

As they walked to the steps a tear fell on my cheek, but I wiped it away and attempted to speak.

“I’m so proud of you guys, you’re both getting so big.” 

Solemnly, my 6-year-old gave me a twig.

“Mom, this is my laser, please keep it at home. Don’t throw it away or replace it, I’ll know.”

Then they hugged me and turned ’round and boarded the bus. I felt oddly conflicted when they made no fuss.

But shut up! For this is a glorious day, and I smiled to my neighbors as our kids drove away.

When the bus turned the corner, my feet felt they had wings.

Happy first day to all! Let’s go throw out their things!