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I am participating in the
Slice of Life Story Challenge (SOL20).
All participants are sharing stories about moments in their lives, writing
every day for the month of March 2020.
Thank you, Two Writing Teachers!
Slice of Life Story Challenge (SOL20).
All participants are sharing stories about moments in their lives, writing
every day for the month of March 2020.
Thank you, Two Writing Teachers!
Waking gently, softly.
Lingering in bed.
Laying quietly.
Listening.
His breaths.
White noise of sound machine.
Rain trickling down the gutters.
No alarm.
No hustle.
Unhurried.
Just slowly emerging.
Holding onto the last vestiges of a dream.
Breath taking, breathtaking.
This is a gift,
these leisurely mornings,
this soft start to each day.
This poem just appeared to me this morning, as I started another quiet day during this coronavirus pandemic. In recent years, as I have weighed the pros and cons of continuing to teach, the most simple and yet strident complaint is my early morning wakeup. I have truly resented that alarm clock and its horrid ring at 5 a.m. I live in the suburbs and teach in the city; I use mass transit; all this means: I must get up early. It is the nature of the beast, as it were.
A couple of weeks ago, back when things were normal, I sat down with my head of school and talked about possible future plans. What if I left full-time classroom teaching and moved into something part-time for the school? I shared some ideas and felt pretty excited by her receptiveness. I feel ready for a change. I would like more time for writing and more time with my husband, who has been retired for some four years now. I have both health and energy, and I love working with preschoolers, so I really don't want to say goodbye to all of it, just yet. We talked at length on a Thursday; the next day schools were closed due to coronavirus.
These slow mornings are
intoxicating,
invigorating,
influential.
I cannot imagine returning to a daily morning alarm.
