If you are a person who does not remember your dreams, count yourself lucky. This is a particular curse that ensures not enough sleep because I am reluctant to both go to sleep and happy to get up. 

So here I sit well before sunrise, in the livingroom Lazyboy, wrapped in both a blanket and my robe, giving myself time before heading off to teach high school English today. My routine involves meditation – with usually about 10 seconds of my 15 minutes giving me some clarity and stillness of mind; then comes Wordle, some inspirational reading, a few notes to friends and family, and a bit of business that didn’t get taken care of the day before and that has plagued my mind during meditation. Today it was about a refund from the Motley Fool investment corporation. I had marked this request on my calendar a full week early, as I have learned to do when signing up for 30 day free trials. The Motley Fool did not make it easy: the promised refund tick box did not show up anywhere, so I needed to send a direct email, which only mildly enraged me, but for which I was rewarded with satisfaction. In these days of leanness with only me working, we need to account for every penny. I don’t like it very much. Neither does Don, who has only recently been permitted to work in Canada. As he waits for his US teacher credentials to be verified and transferred here to BC – a lengthy and email/conversation-laden process – he feels mounting frustration, and what could be a healing time off is now more of a “must-work-now” kind of situation that is not fun for an aging couple who thought they had it all figured out. Humility is part of the game these days. 

I was gratified the other day when a girl stopped me during a very rambunctious library book recommendation club with seventh graders after I said something like, “In my nearly 60 years of book reading…” and she actually thrust her hand out like a crossing guard and loudly said, “STOP!”

We obeyed, and she articulated, “You CAN’T be 60. I could have sworn you were in your 30s!” I delightfully acknowledged this much-needed compliment, and got back to the dystopian teenage book discussion. The very next day, a group of sixth grade girls shyly approached me and said, “We just want to let you know how pretty you are.” Blessed are the youth, and cursed be my ego for this meaning so much to me. These are haggard days for me and making a makeup effort to hide my ‘hooded’ eyes along with the occasional sweep of a curling iron is giving me some pay off in self esteem and respect. It’s easy to be overlooked as a substitute teacher, living in a new town, someone who once got some attention for efficacy and passion in her work, now being rendered close to invisible. 

So on top of grief, there is this. It’s okay. It’s life. We all go through every single damn part of it. Death can’t be avoided – ours or those we love; worry can’t; redundancy can’t, if we live long enough. It’s just being human. Yet it feels so personal. And it is. This is mine to hold. Yours is yours to hold.

I will go get dressed now. The frost is on the ground again and I am unsure of myself in this weather so Don will drive me to my job today, and I will slap on a bit of makeup and wear something appropriate to the weather but that also makes it clear that I am professional. I will smile and be patient. I will instruct and encourage. I will cajole and listen, and hopefully not have to act like a police officer, which is never fun, but which is, on occasion, a necessity at which I am surprisingly good.

Whatever the case, it will be a good day. I am deciding to enjoy it. I am deciding that Emily and my mama and grandparents and the whole damn light brigade will be included in my day.  I invite them to surround me and give me joy and serenity and protection from unruly teens, but mostly my unruly thoughts that seem to be with me 24/7. 

I’m glad I’m not alone in my aloneness. This is a solitary journey we trudge, yet we are still walking parallel on this slippery slope. I don’t want to limp or plod today: I want to lace up my hiking boots and make an adventure of it. I invite you to do the same.