It’s Good Friday, and Friday is Good.
I am here at the cafe, KP waiting for me to go on a run at her apartment. About to pack up my things, to do list for tomorrow made, coffee drained.
It’s beautiful outside, 70s forecast for the week. Sandals on, toes painted, hair back, sun shining.
This is not the light at the end of a tunnel, this is a dance through a field between long and rugged paths.
I have work to do. I have four and a half more weeks of lessons to plan, training to design, partnerships to build, calls to make, assignments to spit out and post up on Blackboard. I’m not finished with anything except one of three current grad classes (four or five more on the horizon for the summer), but I have so much relief.
My heart is bloated with calm, with a peaceful kind of carbonation. My chin is level, my eyes open.
Driving to Little Rock today my eyes just poured over. One time, two times, three. I am in an active transition. Today I submitted my official application for the full time ATC position (my first ever CV!) and I cherish every day I have with my students. I take more time to ask them how they are, to ask how they’ll be when they move into the next grade, next school, next set of teachers. I talk about my move to Little Rock as a fact, I try to help orchestrate new people to take over my rent. My relationships are changing; growing or muting or a newly drifting satellite.
Last night JL and I watched a romantic comedy called About Time. It’s cute and human and was a good filler for a lazy Thursday night. The father in it is diagnosed and dies from cancer. This, combined with the hour and a half drive to get here, compelled me to tears today. Mom. Mom, mom, mom, mommommom– if she was here I would tell her everything. I would ask for advice and let her be proud and tell her that no, I’m not leaving Arkansas. These transition times are the hardest to be motherless, but it never warrants complaint, just recognition. My kids show me daily how much I’ve been given in my life, despite what’s been taken away.
These posts get smaller and smaller, my students stories get fewer and fewer. My brain, my heart, in transition. I love it. I love all of it, but it’s getting closer and closer to far away.