Every day, pandemic times excluded, I took the kiddo to a daycare.
First time I went there, I stood in the parking lot for a bit.
The place looked a bit shabby, the tiny courtyard needed some love.
And I was to leave my kiddo in the hands of very kind, professional strangers.
Kiddo cried every morning for a month. Every afternoon after snack time, kiddo would wait by the door until I came.
And then.
Then, kiddo would happily leave my arms to go play with the others kids. Daycare teachers were kiddo’s friends. Everything they did was so excitting, every song they taught so funny !
Kiddo learned so much, grew up so much among this strange daycare family.
Four years later, on a warm June afternoon, the very kind, professional daycare teachers, by then part of our family as well, organized a little graduation ceremony for the 4-5 years old group.
Kiddo in the graduation gown and mortarboard (yep, the square hat has a name!) was simply breathtaking!
Yesterday morning, a city bus driver drove into a daycare facility in Laval, a big city on the North shore of the St Lawrence river, about an hour drive from where we live.
Two four or five years old kiddo’s will never have a silly little graduation on a warm June afternoon.
My heart is broken. All our hearts are broken.
No words for the stories this morning.
No words.
Marie Alice Writes & Reads 