It’s over.

Kindergarten is over.

182 days completely and utterly finished.

I should not be surprised. For the last few weeks, my older daughter has counted down the days until her last day of kindergarten.

With each pronouncement, though, I secretly hoped time would stop somewhere between Memorial Day and Flag Day so I would not have to face this moment.

“Can you believe it? Only 8 more days!” she crowed gleefully one night over dinner a week ago.

“No, baby bug, I cannot believe it,” I said to myself.

Then the next week, she kept the reminders coming: “Three days left!” And then, “two more days.”

Finally, over dinner tonight, she dealt us a heavy blow.

“Tomorrow is the LAST day of kindergarten!” Her voice was filled with joy–not a note of sorrow. “And today we visited first grade, mommy. First grade looks like so much fun. I don’t care who my teacher will be, it is going to be great.”

It has been an incredible year for our family. My husband and I have worked incredibly hard, and we have watched our children change tremendously. These incredible little girls remain familiar and yet hardly recognizable to me. They are taller, smarter and sassier, and their energy draws you in. Every day, they surprise me with something new they have learned, a new observation or question. And every day, at least once a day, I kiss their scrumptious little faces, trying to reconcile the fact that they are not babies anymore.

I know I’ll probably cry when she hops out of the car tomorrow on her last day of kindergarten. I am so proud of how independent she has become, how curious she remains, and how determined she is. But tonight, after her pronouncement about the last day of school, I looked at my husband and sighed as small tears welled up.

“Doesn’t it feel like we just got started?” I wondered aloud.

He smiled, shaking his head, “It does.”

“Will it always feel like this?” I replied, gaining composure.

“I think so.”