On this day

I am grateful for the “On this day” feature on Facebook. Whether it be a quotation, a status update, or a photograph, the feature has helped me reconnect with things I may have otherwise forgotten. This time two years ago, I was getting my new classroom ready as well as doing some prep work for my new courses. It was such a worthwhile change and move in my career, I have absolutely zero regrets. I’m blessed to teach courses that I love. Flashback to this time last year, I was drinking a Dr. Pepper and organizing and transferring files onto a new hard drive. After years of error messages, Lazarus (my old tower) bit the dust. And those who know me well are aware that tea and Dr. Pepper are often used interchangeably in times of calm and in stress.

A fast-forward to this morning has led me to think: when my Facebook memories pop-up this time next year, what will greet me? Lamentations from an over-tired me? A quotable quote with an appropriate reflection? While I am fully aware that I have school on the brain at this moment as well as a myriad of other thoughts, I do not know what tomorrow, the day after, next week, or the week after holds. I have no control over how others feel about returning to school. I do know, however, that I am looking forward to a new school year. Though how things operate will undoubtedly look different, I and so many others need to get back to some sense of normalcy. 

I look forward to the smudge of black on the side of my hand as my familiar script fills the whiteboard.

I look forward to writing in my new planner where the days will unfold and slip away.

I am beside myself with excitement at the mere thought of teaching novels that I love. The dog-eared and tattered copies are dear and cherished friends. 

At the heart of it all, I look forward to greeting my old students and getting to know the new ones. 

And I look forward to seeing my colleagues and friends after so much time apart. We share a special journey as we educate, guide, and hopefully inspire our students.

There is a definite shift in the air for me - both literally and symbolically. As Summer slowly gives way to Fall, I cannot help but reflect, too, on past seasons of my existence. Even as a child and a teen, I have always felt a little melancholy this time of year. The gradual changing of the leaves’ colours and their eventual shedding from robust branches connect to something deep inside of me.

October 2019 to August 2020 saw me through some of the toughest times I’ve endured as a mother, my husband as a father, my daughter as a sister, and my son as a person. (My daughter, too, suffered the loss of a lot of things she had looked forward to in her senior year.) The months have been mixed with happiness, sadness, anger, and despair. Love and moments of laughter have resided here too. Whatever emotions there are to experience, we have lived them. His story is not my story to tell. Someday, perhaps, as the blood runs through my veins, his story will take shape through the ink from various pens and the light strokes and clicks on a keyboard. There are a few people who have been with me on this most recent part of the journey via phone, text, FaceTime, and in person. For them, I am eternally grateful.

I have never been one to wish my time away but I truly cannot wait to kiss 2020 good-bye. The photograph of the freshly painted classroom walls as well as reflections about new hard drives that inspired this post are wonderful and all yet they seem so trivial to me at the moment. Online discourse and news reports about leaked plans and mandatory masks hold the same level of regard. 

It might not seem like it today and maybe it will not seem any different tomorrow but I have faith that everything will be okay. As sure as I am sitting here, I need to believe that. Undoubtedly, my faith, fervent prayers, tea, Dr. Pepper, hope, love, and confidants will help.

As for the remainder of this day, I am going to tackle a few incomplete summer projects and make some time for me. A glance in the mirror earlier reminded me that I should reconsider dyeing the greying pixie cut that has morphed into more of a pixie-mullet. There’s a vintage and slightly out of tune piano in the living room that my fingers ache to bang out a passable tune on. I will probably head out for a drive at some point this evening with songs from various playlists to flood my senses. The laughter of my son and his childhood friend from the basement just lifted me from my reverie.  The piping hot tea in my “Thou Shalt Be Badass” mug provides comfort as I sip and wait for my thoughts to stop taking shape on the screen. The softly snoring pugs bring a half-grin to my face and halt my fractured thoughts. The rest will remain unwritten for another time.