Columns Many parents will soon wipe away their tears – the most important thing in the Spring Festival movement

We look at our children quietly and seriously, but deep down our hearts melt under a rising chest, writes Maaret Kallio in her column.

Here I am. Just an ordinary parent, one in tens, hundreds, thousands, and hundreds of thousands. Again, it’s the time of year when we organize a mile-long line of parents for our children’s spring parties.

We stand as an unwavering gray mass watching our children sing, recite, play, and receive their testimonies. We see you giggling, excited, tired and happy. Ending a long year.

As always, the faces of our parents at the Spring Festival are unnecessarily true. But at the same time, millions of moments are swarming under our eyes and our hearts are filled with flowing emotions.

We look at you our little ones, almost newborns. Now as a student, weaving class, graduating from elementary school, major Eskarans or horticulture at the first spring party in kindergarten. We look quiet and serious, but deep down our hearts are melting beneath the rising chest. In our gaze, memories run after memories, in a long treading queue.

See also  Bullet train has been studied for 34 years, since the Sarney government

Within our minds, we ask timidly: could I be enough for you? In the midst of my daily responsibilities, hurries, and worries, did I remember showing how happy I have been to you and how dear you have always been in my eyes?

We’re already breathing a little harder and sighing down from the bottom of our hearts how fast these years will finally run, even though sometimes the days have been so long.

How ever you were so small, your skin on my skin for the first time and your eyes only open for a moment. How sometimes you couldn’t even support your head, but I supported you with my hands every single lift and lower. How the stroking got out of her delicate hair and I sniffed your gentle scent while you slept.

How small you have been and how still you are to me.

We are the parents of the spring festival we give our minds a flag over the years and sigh deep inside.

See also  Reader's Opinion | The financial situation of the family is clearly reflected in the wishes for children

This year, too, I heard you giggling tired in your bed and laughing at me too, even though I couldn’t get up off the couch anymore. I also saw how you weighed your head down, but I couldn’t say it out loud to you. Sometimes I let you be even when I shouldn’t have. I would like to apologize to you, but I hardly always know how to.

I know I haven’t always been present enough for you, I disappeared too much into other worlds. I also desperately remember shouting, even though I should have been able to cry instead.

I have seen, how your eyes looked sometimes demandingly. They expected me to know the answers, as adults know. But I’m still learning, and sometimes I don’t even know a crumb of the world.

I also remember how you worshiped me when I was little and my mind made me say I wasn’t quite as wonderful as I admired in my early years. Much later, you looked at me disappointed, but I wasn’t quite as miserable as you thought when you took off.

See also  EU | The EU is tightening its ethical rules - the long-awaited reform gained momentum from the EU Parliament's corruption scandal

How I would like to turn into words that you still always fit in my arms, no matter how big you are. In my heart and in my arms you are never too big, you know that, my little one.

At the end of the spring festival we tens, hundreds, thousands, and hundreds of thousands of parents gather our bouquets and sweaters, close the embracing words in our hearts, and lift our faces toward the front door.

As we pick up roses, bags, white hats, and testimonies, we still think: No matter what, go, you are just as dear to me at all times. You will know many things much better than me and that is how it should go.

We’re still looking for our own little one’s face, hand or shoulder and we hug a little shakily. Then we set off together for the summer, trusting that even if everything else in this world were broken – love, it would last.

#Columns #parents #wipe #tears #important #Spring #Festival #movement

Related Posts

Next Post

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Recommended