Last day of school

Ah the trauma; his and mine.  The uncurling of his fingers from the bars of the canal footbridge under the benign and encouraging surveillance of Mme Biard from her kitchen window..  The clinging to my legs once we got to the gate.  The cajoling, the separation, the tears; his and mine.  

And here it is.  The last day of lessons.  It all went so quickly.