Grandparents and little brother in tow, my husband and I attended our daughter’s first ever Spring concert.
The theme was Michael Jackson. My mother and I worked on my daughter’s glitter glove for days, trying to get it just right.
Of course, the concert was excellent. (What mother would say otherwise about her baby’s first school concert?)
While my daughter danced and sang on stage to Michael Jackson’s Thriller, I saw the future. Not just my daughter’s, but all the little performers up there doing the zombie actions and smiling right into the bright flashing lights of so many cameras.
All those kids, the shy ones, the outgoing ones, the slightly timid at the beginning but really warmed up by the end ones; they are the future.
They are tomorrow and next year and the year after. They are high school graduates just waiting to happen.
So full of life and promise. So untouched (hopefully) by the world. Like little seeds, waiting for water and sunlight, stretching to their greatest potential.
The music teacher watered them and shined his light on them in that spectacular, Michael Jackson would be proud concert, full of glitter and sparkle.
These seedlings are the future. Like their music teacher, nourish them we must.