We got up early; I dressed, showered, and applied makeup while you ate cinnamon toast with your dad. We’d been sleeping late every day during the summer, so your dad was delighted to breakfast with you. He missed starting each day with your delightful sunny smile.
I drove you to school; we walked, holding hands, to the cafeteria. There were many kids and teachers who seemed to be moving in slow motion, and we did not know them. I was completely overwhelmed; you were not. Mrs. Kunkel, a friend of the family, suddenly appeared from the sea of nameless faces and swooped you up enfolding you under her arm taking you to the gym, and I followed three paces behind, happy to see a familiar face.
The new kindergartners were sitting in lines, backpacks on their backs with teddy bears in their arms and grouped in lines by the name of their teacher. I walked with you to Mrs. Cox’s line and sat with you.
All of the other moms were leaving, and a mom was sobbing in a dark corner of the gym. I was sweating, but I left too.
You were a little afraid at that moment, but so very brave. You let me go only clutching me slightly. You were fine until the line began to move toward your classroom. You began to cry, and I was not there to comfort you.
A little boy took you by the hand and asked, “what is wrong?” You said, “I want my Mommy.” He said, don’t cry, you will see your mommy soon. After school.”
He watched over you the whole day, and he watched over you most of the year.
So began the friendship between Stephanie Clement and Kaleb McCann.
By Darla Clement
