Dropping off Oliver at school in the morning is one of my favorite times of the day.
So many groggy-eyed (yet proud) parents bustling about, rushing their kids this way or that; the younger kids flying across the playground equipment while groups of older kids battle it out in yet another epic battle of two-hand-touch. Filtering in and out of the sea of short people are teachers and administrators sporting blaze-orange vests and tired (yet hopeful) eyes. The littlest on the playground toss handfuls of freshly-fallen leaves into the air and the place is an autumnal snow-globe.
Aside from the way a lot of the parents drive and park at the drop-off, it’s a pretty fun scene that repeats itself every.single.morning. A cacophony of kids and teachers and parents and love and everything that makes you feel young and alive.
As I high-five Oliver, say goodbye and make my way back through the chaos to the minivan and my commute to the office, I sometimes wonder if my day will ever appear as incredible as it’s does when I view that scene, and that day ahead, through Oliver’s eyes.
I really hope there’s a part of him that interprets his day’s potential even just a little like I do; so joyful and limitless; alive and filled with wonder.
And, perhaps…I should remember to look at my days through that same lens? Perhaps I too should go out in front of the office and throw some leaves into the air? Maybe I’ll give it a go after I finish this second cup of coffee.