Not in terms of age, though it plays a small part in the event.
Not in terms of a loss, though there is loss involved in another form.
Not in terms of overt significance, but it is significant in a small way.
Today my youngest granddaughter finished her last day at primary school, that is to say, an end to the first seven years of her schooling. Next year, she will be going to secondary school, the next scholastic milestone.
I can’t remember that far back as to how it felt leaving the safety of having a single teacher and a single classroom and moving on to many teachers, many classrooms, different students, and having to organize yourself getting to each.
She is facing it with some trepidation.
But on another level, it is the last day I will be picking her up from school on a Friday, or any other day if needed, and there will be no more interesting discussions of what went on at school that day.
Some of those discussions were quite lively, some about fellow students whom she disliked, or liked, depending on how the wind blew, about the lack of talent in the talent show, of how track and field events were cancelled, and she could not get to improve in her high jumping.
And just to let you know, in grade 6 she was age champion for high jumping, not only at her school but in the local district and the region.
Track events, not so good.
Swimming, it was just fun to get in the water.
School camps, the food was terrible, the activities sucked, the other kids, they could be better.
I never went on camp, but if it is half as bad as she described it, I’m glad I didn’t.
Being the last day, we took her to what she called her ‘graduation’ lunch, so she could have her favourite meal, sushi.
Now it’s the school holidays for the next 6 or so weeks, during which she and her sister will be staying with us, and we will be going on what I call magical mystery tours, just driving around until we find something interesting. These tours have ended up in Train museums, historical exhibits, art galleries, strange restaurants, and national parks with trails and waterfalls.
I am reminded that all of this will disappear, once they get older, have new friends, even discover boys. It’s the cycle of life. Already the eldest granddaughter has turned 18, finished school, has a job, and gone out into the world.
Until then, I will cherish the moments we have, and hope, by the time I reach the old folks home, I’ll have an abundance of memories to look back on.