Square Peg

   The feeling of not fitting in never really goes away does it? I think as one gets older, one simply learns to cope with it.  From the first day of school, or the first day of camp, or even entering a party and joining in a conversation awkwardly when all the faces are strangers- it all resonates the same.

    I just retired in June from 25 years of teaching, and already having lunch, or just meeting my former team- it is different.  Don't get me wrong, they are still the same to me, unbelievably kind, but I don't belong.  I don't fit. I can just see the gap widening at future get togethers.

     I no longer share the passion, the frustrations, the drama and the stories of my school. I can certainly relate, but I'm not a part of them.

   I am merely marveling at life, and how it does indeed "march on."

Ah! To Be a Child Again. . . .

 

   Sometimes, I hate being an adult.  In fact, truth be told, I have always envied a little toddler screaming and pummeling the concrete floor in Target after a toy was finally put back on the shelf. They got it out of their system; they expressed themselves.  Now, it's over, and let's move on. It's really cathartic . 

    I used to even marvel at my own two children who were almost possessed by a split personality. My daughter would explode like Mount Vesuvius, and then like someone had flipped a switch, kindly make some other unrelated random request so quietly I might have to bend down to hear it.

    They sleep better than we do, too.  Standing in their doorway at night, I would pause to just watch them sleep. I remember taking in their calm porcelain faces with deep admiration.

   Don't worry. I won't be starting any new fangled "Emotional Release," groups for adults any time soon. . . .

Effortless Efficiency

 

      I remember one Christmas when I was in my twenties and I was having trouble budgeting my Christmas spending and my father quipped, "Well, you could just do what your mother did. She took the present from my parents, and the present from her parents, and exchanged the package labels. Then she just sent the packages back off to each family."  He didn't dole out the compliments, or awe out to many people in his life but that story, coupled with his appreciative chuckle, sort of said it all.

      I still have their original  Christmas ornaments from their early days as a couple in New York.  And it never fails when I hang those old tarnished, yet still beautiful German glass Shiny Brite ornaments that I think of her, in their fifth floor walk up, and I can't help but admire her ingenuity.  

True Confessions

   I'm not gonna lie I don't get a lot done in this hammock. Okay, I will be honest, I don't get anything done.  With further transparency, I would like to say that all my best thinking takes place in that hammock but that wouldn't be true, either. But the view, the crystal blue sky, and the soft whisper of the pines is like nothing else. 

   So, what exactly does happen in that hammock, you might ask. Well, in the cradle of that hammock the deepest peace occurs.  Everything slows down to a stop. and I love every single slow moment there.