Mariam’s moments

I have been an emotional wreck over the last few days. I changed my son’s school and am now finding it hard to put my heart at ease.

I enrolled my son at the age of three. I had a dream that he would grow up to be a gentleman here, develop friendships that would stand the test of time and one day graduate with pride.

My son gave his heart to the school. He excelled at studies, art and learned with devotion all that was offered to him. I was his support and push. I stood with him like I was a part and partner with him on his journey.

With passing days and classes I realised that I wanted more for my child. I wanted a more competitive environment where he could be fully challenged. I applied to a school well reputed for these demands. As expected, he was initially put on a waiting list. Then, rather unexpectedly, he was offered a place in the middle of the school year. Within days the paperwork was done and he was officially in the new school.

My heart skipped a beat when he dressed in a different uniform. As I walked down the unknown corridors, I saw faces that were all strange to me. I wanted to hug my little boy and take him home. I pushed my tears back, reinforced myself that this was better for him and left him with his new teacher and class mates.

Later I went to pick up his things from his previous school. I saw nothing there except my child’s past few years ... running, walking and laughing in those corridors. His artwork was still decorated with pride on the walls. The stories he had learned to write were posted outside his class. Everything was where it should be, except my son who I had carried away from his cosy sanctuary.

I heard the sound of giggles. I turned and there I saw all his best friends hopping and chatting together. I rushed to the car and hid myself behind the steering wheel.

PS. Please note that lots of tissues were used during the penning of this article.