I’ve been an educator for 25 years.
The first day of school has always been important—
Always special.
Always something to celebrate.

But 17 of those 25 years carried a different kind of weight.
Because for 17 years, I got to share that first day with my kids.

Every single one marked with a photo—
Seventeen snapshots of them holding up handmade signs, me standing behind the camera (sometimes next to them), trying to freeze time just a little.

It became our tradition—
Our quiet little ritual to mark the passing years.
Seventeen first days.
Seventeen moments before the chaos began.

But this year…
For the first time, there won’t be a photo.

No scramble for a marker and a sign.
No rolling eyes at my dad jokes.
No early Starbucks stop or last-minute Jack in the Box run.
No backpack checks in the car, or snack grabs from 7-Eleven.
No hanging out in my office before the bell.

This year, it’s just me and my coffee.
A little quieter.
A little emptier.

Bittersweet doesn’t even begin to cover it.
Time marches on.
And I’m so proud of my kiddos…

But man—I miss it already.

Enjoy this one? You might just be one of us. There’s more waiting at Inkblotz—stories and reflections that feel like remembering something you forgot you knew.