It’s official—my sweet Belle has entered her senior year.
Class of 2026.
I can’t wrap my head around it. How did we get here so fast? It feels like just yesterday Brandon and I were walking her into kindergarten, trying to convince her that school would actually be fun. (Spoiler: she wasn’t buying it.) Some kids count down the days to that big first morning—Belle was not one of them. She wanted to stay home, and she let us know it loud and clear.
The very next year, she got her wish when we decided to homeschool. From that moment on, she’s been my little sidekick. Together we’ve learned to garden by actually getting dirt under our fingernails, not just reading about it. We’ve cooked, canned, and baked more cookies than I can count. We’ve tackled the unglamorous stuff too—laundry, dishes, the never-ending list of chores—right alongside math, science, and history.
But the best lessons? They came from the road. We’ve explored North Carolina from Manteo to Murphy. Belle learned about Carolina Bays while swimming at Jones Lake, uncovered the history of the Great Smoky Mountains at the Road to Nowhere, and even sat in on conversations with members of the NCGA to see how state government really works.
She hasn’t missed out on extracurriculars either—cheerleading, choir, youth group service projects, even swimming at the club. And now senior year is bringing a new adventure: co-op classes. Dropping her off didn’t feel all that different from that first day of kindergarten—except this time, she was ready. I wasn’t.
It hit me as she climbed out of the car: this is a year of lasts. The last first day, the last prom, the last chorus concert. But it’s also a year of firsts—the first steps toward her next chapter. Watching Belle step into it is bittersweet, but I couldn’t be prouder of the young woman she’s becoming.
Here’s to senior year, Class of 2026. Let’s make it count. (And let’s hope I survive.)
