I was a mess.
A total freak of a mess.
My 11 year old looking all grown up in her pretty dress. Rolling her eyes at her embarrassing mom.
I had flashbacks to when I was her age. Time is a trickster.
I sat next to my ex-husband, feeling out of place and wishing it was Marco next to me. I was nervous for Isa and sad and mad and happy all at once. My hands were sweaty and shaky. Juggling between my camera and my phone and my purse and the program. I ended up dropping my phone from my lap and it hit the floor in that perfect vulnerable spot. Cracked screen.
The gymnasium was packed with a class of 120 students and only two guests per student.
The principal said all the right words. Teachers were tearing up and so was I. I think Mr. W even got choked up himself.
Her name was called and it went so fast. She stepped up to the stage and accepted her certificate and posed with Mr. W. I fumbled with my phone taking pictures. None of them came out. All blurry and shaky. And then boom, it was over. She was officially done with elementary school.
Luckily, one of her good friends’ father took a great picture and will be emailing it to me.
If I was already a mess at this promotion ceremony, how will I be at 8th grade? High school? College?
Isn’t she still my baby?
How did she get to be five feet tall wearing a woman’s shoe size? Who is this young lady that vaguely resembles my little princess?
I was a mess.
But I’m so damn proud of her.