It was August, 1999. It was a beautiful day, and I thought I would take a walk over to my son Will’s future school, which was directly down our street, less than a mile away.
We lived in a tiny school district with one elementary school serving K-3, and one middle school which taught grades 4-8. At age nine, Will was “graduating” into fourth grade. I guess that I just wanted to walk the path before he did.
But, as I walked, I fretted.
I have no reason to be concerned about this change; I thought. So, why am I?
It was a mom “thing” I guess. His previous school had been wonderfully enriching and protective. Would lightning strike twice? Should it even? Part of life is learning from navigating challenging experiences. It’s just that it would be a larger school and with older students in seventh and eighth grade. He was going to be the small fish in the big bowl. There would be a lot of navigating.
I think that one thing on my mind was the importance of experiencing a good first year. If he had that, his transition would be much easier and confidence would soar. So, I focused on that as I walked along.
Please have a good year, this year I channeled to Will and anything else in the universe tuning in. It will be a springboard for the rest.
I started matching my pace to those words “good year” repeatedly running through my head.
There is a philosophy about fate and signs that I’ve always liked. It is that signs are nothing more than moments or symbols which randomly spring up in different places in our lives. They are momentary flashes of seeing the truth; a truth that is meant to help guide us. The cool part is that fate typically places us in the exact position needed to see the sign when it occurs.
But sometimes, people miss the signs they are supposed to see. They may look the other way, or they may be afraid, or they don’t believe what they are seeing.
Luckily, there’s a type of safety net in place. Life will keep sending signs until the person is ready to recognize them.
As I finally reached the back driveway of the school, and turned to walk inside the school’s fences, I paused; shocked. There, in the sky, flying quite low, was a cosmic sign; it would probably be the easiest sign for me to recognize for the rest of my life.
It was the Good Year blimp. Honest to God. I think the universe had heard me and was telling me to not give one more thought about Will’s transition to middle school. He was exactly where he should be and he was GOING to have a good year.
And to think that I had also been exactly where I was supposed to be at that moment. I would have missed it by ten minutes of leaving earlier or later for my walk.
I stood and watched it slowly move over the school. I could hear the low rumble of its engine.
As it floated further away, I finally turned to head home; smiling all the way.
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