For the past four years, the fall has been marching band time in my house. It's busy. The days are long. There is carpooling and football games and planning and loading and unloading and Saturdays watching our daughter compete. Our youngest was always a helper, but this year she was a member so we got to watch BOTH of our girls. We enjoy it. It's fun, we get to help and my husband and I get to hang out with our band parent friends.
The kids practice day in and day out for the biggest competition of the season- Lower State. The top bands from that competition perform at State. It's a big deal and the kids put a lot of work in. This year the weather did not cooperate, there was rain all day. They moved Lower State inside for the first time ever. That meant that the band would stand in a gym and play through their show while standing still. A marching band competition with no marching. My oldest was so disappointed about it. All the hours of learning drill and practicing over and over again..... What can you say? Some things are just out of our control.
Adjustments were made and plans were changed and life went on. The kids showed up, the truck was loaded and then we all got on the bus to head to Lower State. Except the bus I was on had a flat tire. There was no time to wait for another bus. We got the kids off of the bus, dispersed them on the other 2 buses and the dads grabbed instruments in the rain and loaded them into every vehicle that was available. Parents took the overflow kids in their car and we headed up, in a caravan, following our two remaining buses. I wound up with my youngest daughter and 3 seniors.
We had a blast. We played "A my name is" and "The ministers cat" , we laughed and laughed. Then they pulled up all their past marching band shows on Youtube and reminisced about them. They've made so many memories. But when you are an involved parent, you make memories too. I thought about the time our props rolled down the hill, and the time I held a kid's hair back as she vomited when she got off the field, the time the parents laid down on the field during the show to hold our panels in place on a crazy windy day and the time the parents tried to find a Starbucks after Lower State and the GPS took us to the middle of a forest where there was definitely NOT a Starbucks. I smiled to myself. These are my people.
We continued to drive along and my gas light came on. I didn't not plan to drive up there, I had not planned ahead. We were in the middle of a cotton field. I was starting to panic. The kids were starting to panic a little bit too. That would be the icing on the cake, us running out of gas on our way up. We finally spotted a gas station. It was a broke down, shack of a place. The EL CHEAPO sign was peeling. The pump I pulled into was 30 years old and didn't work. One of the kids in the back said, "I feel like we are in a National Lampoon movie today..." She wasn't wrong. We did get gas eventually and all was well. One of the kids in the back said, "I thought we were just going to drive up and everyone would be on their phones and I'm really happy be played games and talked." OMG, my heart burst. I was happy too.
We finally got to where we needed to be. One of our buses went to the wrong place. It was a giant clusterf*ck. We unloaded our truck of equipment in the rain, under tents. We had all 100 kids trying to get dressed in the parking lot. It was bananas.
Then we went into the school. They had the children warm up in the cafeteria. It was the strangest thing. The children played and the moms put plumes in their hats, and fixed bibbers and hair. That's what the mothers do. We flit around and do the little things, present but separate. The children played and the guard twirled their flags. I stood back and watched them all. These are my friend's children and my children's friends. Kids who I have chaperoned and watched for years. I know them all by name. I am rooting for each and every one of them. I hope they all grow up and have beautiful lives. I did shed a tear or two.
We went and watched them perform in the gym. It was somewhat anti-climatic. They sounded amazing. I was so proud of them. Then we loaded the truck back up and took the kids to the mall to have dinner. We went back for awards. There was not enough room in the school so the kids had to wait on the bus. Only select leadership, staff and parents were allowed in. They announced the bands from last to first. Our band was not eligible for State championship. I waited through the rest of the ceremony, anxious, knowing that my oldest daughter would be looking for me. The moment it was over, I left quickly. I spoke to no one. I stepped out of the school and into the rain and in the light of the parking lot, I saw one single child walking across. I knew it was her.
I went to her and she collapsed into my arms and she sobbed. And sobbed and sobbed- a guttural, mourning sob. I just stood in the middle of the parking lot and held my girl in the rain. I understood. She will more than likely be at Governor's School next year. This is probably it for her. She wasn't just sobbing because they didn't make State, but because this may be the end, because many of her friends are graduating and leaving, because she felt robbed of the last experience of being on the field with them. This is a thing that she loves and cares about so much. It has been a big part of her life for 4 years. I didn't say anything. I just held her while she fell apart. We were soaked but we were together. After a while, she looked up at me and I wiped the mascara from her face with the cuff of my sweatshirt. "I'm sorry. I'm proud of you and I love you." We walked back to the bus, defeated.
I checked on my youngest, who was just fine. She somewhat ambivalent about marching band. The kids looked disappointed and it broke my heart. Life is like that sometimes. Things do not go as planned, things happen that you cannot control, you will be dealt disappointment after disappointment and their will be mourning and loss. Things will seem very unfair and sometimes you will try your best and give everything you have and that might not be enough. But, life does go on.
I may have watched my daughter perform with the marching band for the very last time. Although, I can not unequivocally say that is the case, I do not know what the future holds. I thought I would be sad about it but I'm okay. I have attended every football game and competition in 4 years. I haven't missed one performance. Not a single one. I've enjoyed every minute of watching her and cheering her on.
When the kids were younger, I used to become fixated on "lasts." There are many lasts that I do not remember. I don't remember the last time I read a book to them or the last time I held them on my hip, or the last time that I nursed them. There have been so many lasts in the past few years. I used to want to hold on the last times, to savor them, to burn them in my memory forever. But who says that the lasts are more special? I might not remember the last time I nursed them but I have so many memories of them nuzzled peacefully at my breast, I don't remember the last book I read to them but I do remember the countless nights I spent in their beds, reading books and laughing. Firsts and Lasts are special but it's the time in between that really matters. That is where the memories are really made and I know that one day my girls will realize that.
So, don't blink. The children grow up. So fast that you can't even see it coming. Love HARD. Embrace endings and new beginnings.
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