Snapshots

snapshot 1
There are so many people and suddenly I feel tender. I look for my toddler and stay as close to him as I can. Just being next to him grounds me. I lean my forehead against his and take comfort in his proximity. This is not a loss of identity. This is home.

snapshot 2
My student comes to me with arms wide open. Today I hug her as close to me as I would hold my own child. Another student drags his feet down the hall. We’ve had a few difficult lessons with each other this year. “I don’t want to be here today!” he grumbles. The bear hug that I just gave his classmate has inspired me. With a little bit of convincing, he lets me hug him tight. He doesn’t know that this hug helps me as much as it helps him.

snapshot 3
The sun and the clouds bicker over whether the day will end in gold or dark gray. I’m personally rooting for the sun so my melancholy mood doesn’t have a reason to stick around. They come to a truce–a few minutes of light rain before the sun throws its yellow robes across the heavens as it exits. It’s as good a sign as any to wrap up my dreary thoughts for the day.

snapshot 4
Thoughts about dreams:
What if they offered a class on creative dreaming instead of creative writing? My dreams are much too serious.
“…and even in my dreams you won’t say the words I want to hear the most”
“This is what dreams are made of, just not mine.”