Rain or Shine
LAKESIDE REVIEW
5 September 1984
Matthew started school yesterday. I watched him saunter—almost swagger down the hall. One small hand swung confidently against his stiff new jeans, while the other hand’s knuckles tightened on a pencil box so new you could still see the gummy place where the price tag had been.
Matt-Matt’s freshly cut hair, the color of ripe wheat, bounced jauntily on the crown of his head, as he maintained a safe distance ahead of me, but not so far away that his clear, blue eyes couldn’t focus on my face whenever he looked back over his shoulder.
This, he did regularly, if somewhat self-consciously, before jostling against some nearby kid as though to create a diversion from those apprehensive backwards glances.
When Matthew finally reached the kindergarten room, my thoughts raced ahead to contemplate the teacher waiting outside the door to turn the page of a new chapter in my small child’s life.
A thousand questions quarreled with the peaceful state of mind I had sought to affect as an example to my son.
Will this teacher notice how vulnerable Matt’s mouth and chin are when his eyes sparkle with pseudo macho mischief?
Could she ever guess how much the tough little kid who likes to flex his muscles in public loves his well-worn plush leopard in private?
Will she understand that the biggest tease in in her class, the one who doesn’t mind tugging on a little girl’s braids, would shrink to ever pull a puppy’s tail.
Can she sense that a small boy who seems so self-contained would love to have a hug from time to time?
Upon reaching the long-awaited destination of his first five years, Matthew took his place behind a table low enough to stub your toe on. Forcing an ear-to-ear grin from across his teeth, he gazed with bravado at the brand-new woman in his life.
I hoped she saw the momentary wobble of his chin.
