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Tag: reflections

On ‘ki’ and ‘kin’

Last Friday and Saturday, we had record-breaking cold, arctic chill. This was no fun at all. Then, this weather left us quickly and abruptly, leaving us with the shock of early spring: temperatures swinging up into the 50s. Early in the morning, writing at my window, I knew this was a day to be outside.

The day began 
with this glorious sunshine 
dappling, spotting, kissing
everything in sight
as if to say
Good morning!

Later in the day, my friend and I met for our regular ‘wun’ (walk/run). She had to collect sticks for an art project with her students, so this was truly a walk in the woods  I had recently listened (again!) to Robin Wall Kimmerer  [an OnBeing podcast from May 2022], who shared –

And there’s a beautiful word — “bimaadiziaki,” which one of my elders kindly shared with me. It means “a living being of the earth.” But could we be inspired by that little sound at the end of that word, the “ki,” and use “ki” as a pronoun, a respectful pronoun inspired by this language, as an alternative to “he,” “she,” or “it” so that when I’m tapping my maples in the springtime, I can say, “We’re going to go hang the bucket on ki. Ki is giving us maple syrup this springtime”? And so this, then, of course, acknowledges the being-ness of that tree, and we don’t reduce it — it — to an object. It feels so wrong to say that.

Robin Wall Kimmerer with Krista Tippett, The Intelligence of Plants, May 12, 2022

As my friend and I hiked along the creek, in the midst of bare trees of winter, surrounded by all this beautiful brown and gray, I felt embraced by other beings. I understood what Robin Wall Kimmerer was saying, how it feels wrong to use the label ‘it’ when speaking of a tree or a stream or a cloud above. 

Let me share a little more of Robin Wall Kimmerer’s wisdom, from the podcast –

And I have some reservations about using a word inspired from the Anishinaabe language, because I don’t in any way want to engage in cultural appropriation. But this word, this sound, “ki,” is, of course, also the word for “who” in Spanish and in French. It turns out that, of course, it’s an alternate pronunciation for “chi,” for life force, for life energy. I’m finding lots of examples that people are bringing to me, where this word also means “a living being of the Earth.”

The plural pronoun that I think is perhaps even more powerful is not one that we need to be inspired by another language, because we already have it in English, and that is the word “kin.”

Yes, “kin” is the plural of “ki,” so that when the geese fly overhead, we can say, Kin are flying south for the winter. Come back soon. So that every time we speak of the living world, we can embody our relatedness to them.

Robin Wall Kimmerer with Krista Tippett, The Intelligence of Plants, May 12, 2022

My friend and I decided to practice ‘ki’ and ‘kin’ on our walk. As we picked up sticks, we introduced the stick to each other – look, isn’t ki a beauty? We were surprised by the mental challenge of this seemingly simple change in language. What was unexpected for me was how easily I chose the masculine ‘he’ for the pronoun. I had to slow down and think through this, before I spoke, choosing not ‘it,’ not ‘he,’ but ‘ki.’ 

With this language of ‘ki’ and ‘kin’ at the front of our minds, I noticed that we both became quieter and more observant. We were absorbing the beautiful nature all around us, in that slower, meditative way, that is so good for the heart and soul. We were with kin.

Look at this remnant of a tree – ki appears to have split into wings, ready to fly away

It’s Tuesday and I’m grateful to be sharing with Two Writing Teachers

To Be Last

For the Spiritual Thursday prompt this month, Robert Hamera asks, ‘How then do we slow down?,’ especially in the midst of our challenging world and its rapid changes. How do we not get caught up in the franticness of what is going on around us? ​​Check out his thoughtful reflections on this theme, and read the comments on his post for links to other writers and their responses. 

—-

The very question “How then do we slow down?,”  implies that we should slow down – and I totally agree. I have lived with myself long enough to know almost instantaneously when I am becoming too immersed, wound up, caught up in an overwhelming situation – and that everything I am doing is not helping to ‘solve’ whatever is wrong. How do I recognize this? I feel it in my body, recognizable in my inability to sit still, my pinball attention span, my reckless cravings for sugar and salt, and my general fatigue that is not nourished by a nap. Most painfully, I hear it in my voice, flagged by my short-tempered, rapid, sometimes sarcastic exchanges with loved ones. All these signs tell me that I have let larger, unsettled challenges take center stage inside me, at the expense of myself. I need to stop. Slow down. Breathe. Put aside whatever the BIG UGLY is, and take care of me. Give myself space.

What fills me with awe is that when I give myself space – permission to slow down, to not focus on the overwhelming but instead center on that which is right there in front of me – the challenges become less so. Always. I take myself out of the equation, and, in so doing, I fortify myself. Always. 

I read this Bible passage, recently –

But do not ignore this one fact, beloved, that with the Lord one day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like one day. - 2 Peter 3:8 (NRSV)

I find this verse both formidable and calming. It is a paradox. To me, it says – live with the understanding that what we do will echo through time, live with the understanding that this time in which we live is not the center of everything or anything, live with the understanding that what we do today matters very much, live with the understanding that what we do matters not at all. Yes, and. 

It is definitely helpful to spend time in quiet meditation after reading that! 

As a retired teacher, I am able to heed the need for slowing down on a much more regular basis. It is amazing to have this time and space, to quiet myself enough to be more fully present. An introvert by nature, it is a joy to begin my day very slowly and quietly. The first moments of my day are spent in quiet contemplation, with journaling and readings, a mix of meditations, prayer, and poetry. 

I try to slow down enough to write a poem from my journaled musings, to ‘catch my thoughts.’ Here is the poem I wrote this morning, as I studied a tree outside my window. I think it fits quite nicely with this theme of “slowing down.” (I wish I had taken a photograph of this tree in the morning light – perhaps I will tomorrow morning, and add it to this post.)

to be last

autumn turning to winter
bowing offering genuflecting
the ground is cold and brown
all the leafing trees are bare 

except this one dear oak 
who holds tight
unable to let go 
the morning sun mingles and kisses
dazzling her leaves a bright amber
her branches yield to the rippling wind
and offer a friendly wave, as if to say 
hello! good to see you!

this one dear oak is nestled
by three evergreens, who 
she towers above yet leans into 
resting on the conifers’ shoulders
conversing affectionately, whispering
you are who I want to be near 

is she keeping her plumage to be
like her friends, the evergreens? 
is she aware that others have moved on?
it is both pleasure and precious 
to be last

secret lives of trees? not really
they are lived in the open
if we only we pause to see

The Widow

She spoke up before we sat down
calling out from the pew behind 
Hello, I’m Kathy Ann Smith. 

I’m not sure she said Kathy Ann or Smith 
or what exactly she said
I hadn’t taken notice, I only half heard
it was three all too ordinary names 
Mary Karen Lynn Sue Beth Jones Turner Ross Ingram
well not Ingram
that’s mine
I would have heard that

I was caught off guard
nodded politely
not knowing her
sat down in the pew
set down my things
and wondered 
if she was a visitor
and why was I so bad
at introductions and small talk
so much for my role in a welcoming church

She spoke again continued persisted

Do you know who I am?

I turned to her with an embarrassed smile
(I dared not say aloud, 
no, I do not know who you are)

She stretched out her hand
I shook it and introduced myself 
I took her in
petite and gray
somewhat older than me
I tried ever so quickly 
to remember to assess to know
if I had met her before

She continued
I wonder if you know my husband, Bob?

Bob? I asked, confused, trying 
to quickly process who that might be
another common name gone blank in my mind

Bob Smith, he died this past week
Pastor sent word to the congregation
The funeral is Thursday
oh how I blanched
horrified at my gaffe
I was so slow to put it all together 
Bob was a long-time member
who had been ill for quite some time
we had just heard word of his passing

I babbled OhyesyesIknew 
yourhusbandIamsosorrytohearof 
hisdeathI’msosorryforyourloss
She continued assuredly
Well, he loved this church. 
I didn’t really come here much.
It was his thing, on Sundays. 
But I thought I’d come today, in his honor. 
I miss him.

She reached into her purse and
took out a framed photo of him
turning it towards me
Isn’t he handsome here?

and so we sat talking
she sharing her grief
me listening 
until the church service began

this experience
meeting her
this odd unexpected holy conversation
I’ve held onto it

imagine
a new widow
naming her loss
sharing her grief
its utter rawness
placing it into strangers’ hands
so that we might help her hold it

refreshing and innocent, I think

I am reminded of how
young children
know instinctively 
that pain is shared
crying out for
every knee scrape
every collapse of a block tower
every broken cookie

When does the learning begin
to swallow
to lock it within
to keep it to oneself
to get over it
to bear it alone or quietly?

Typically 
the grieving stand apart
shaken and sad and solemn
we whisper concernedly
make tender remarks
write cards

I am grateful 
for her honesty her openness her clarity

Help. This hurts.

I am awed.

Night Sounds

The afternoon sun on the Cacopan River in West Virginia

I found myself wide-awake both nights of the retreat, this past weekend. I lucked into the bottom bunk due to my timely arrival, but it did little to assist my being comfortable in the narrow unfamiliar cot. I was alone awake, in a bunkhouse with other women, listening to the sounds of the darkness from within and outside. 

I was fascinated by everyone’s breathing noise. Spellbound. Listening. Yes, we are women of a certain age, and we are no longer delicate in our sleep. A shift in our sleeping positions and here comes the whinnying, gasps, and snorts. My husband has nudged me many times for my snores, poking me when I am sound asleep, encouraging me to move from my back to my side or my belly, so that he might return to quiet. As I lay awake in the bunkhouse, I delighted in the variety of these sounds, and the ‘call and response’ nature – it was as if women called out to each other under the veil of night, offering a secret conversation. 

bunkhouse reverie

conversations continue
in the dark of night
snorts and snarls
chokes and spurts
gasps and growls
intermittent coughs
an airplane landing?
a leaf blower cranked?
unknown beast?
she settles and all goes quiet,
then she answers from across the room
stops and starts 
call and response
symphony of seniors

As I settled into this uncertain concert, I let go of the sounds within the cabin and honed in on the night noise outside, in the wood surrounds. I became transfixed by this unknown warble, an unfamiliar animal trill – was this a bird or a four-legged friend? It sounded musical, like a gentle shake of a maraca, a call emitted from deep in the being’s throat. The sound varied in length, as if conversational phrases – varying from 3-4 seconds to nearly 20 seconds at one point. Who’s out in the woods in West Virginia in the middle of the night? 

Over breakfast, I tried to describe what I heard, but no one seemed to know what animal it might be. There was no way to solve this mystery during my retreat, because we were very much ‘off the grid.’ As soon as I returned home, I began to investigate online, looking up what animals live in this region and what sounds they make. Isn’t the internet the most fabulous tool? I’m excited to say, I did find the source of the beautiful sound: the eastern screech owl. (I really like this YouTube link because you can watch the owl as they make the sound.)

“Observe and reflect, become a little wiser every day.”
- so sayeth an unknown owl
It’s Tuesday and I’m participating in the Slice of Life.
Thank you, Two Writing Teachers,
for creating this supportive community of teacher writers.

titters unknown

listen
do you hear it
this light soft twinkle sprinkle wink of a sound
through the air?
tender happy titter
carried through the breeze 
early morning rain 
here on the porch
I am riveted
listening
is this birds in the distance?
sweet giggles of feathered friends
hiding in bush or tree
or perhaps it is simply
wisps of someone's music
many houses away
carried by the wind?
how beautiful this rain
falling
soaking
luring
carrying sweet melody
is it the tiny wind chimes
held within the redbud's bare branches?
autumn breeze setting music free 
tickling rain
jiggling rain
waking rain
it is lovely to hear
listening

oh wait
what's this?
here in my pocket, my own pocket
right at my heart
oh my,  it's my cellphone
reminding me
to slow down stop listen
oh how silly I am!
not bird not wind not others
but preset chimes

listen

hahaha
how I make myself laugh

I tend to be an anxious person, getting caught up in ‘worries’ or ‘must do’s’ that lie ahead. A few months ago, I set meditation reminders on my phone, to sound a pleasant chime a couple times a day. These chimes allow me to go quiet for a moment and pay attention to what is happening at that very moment in the world immediately around me: what do I hear, see, feel, smell, observe? This particular morning, I totally forgot about the preset sound on my phone, and became totally engrossed in the sounds I was hearing. I guess this means the meditation alarm really worked? Certainly, I slowed down and listened. So fun!

It's Tuesday and I'm participating in Slice of Life. 
Thank you, Two Writing Teachers,
for creating this supportive community of teacher writers.

Shadows, Light, Reflection

I was in Saco, Maine this past weekend, enjoying a ‘second summer,’ with bright sunshine and temperatures in the 70s. Autumn brings very special light, instigating these incredible shadows and offering gorgeous water reflections. Here’s a slice through photos, sharing some of this extraordinary beauty. Such a gift of a visit!

whispers of trees
dwindling leaves
stretch their arms 
in hope
towards the bright blue sky
soft lapping waves
kisses from the sun
footprints in the sand
problems forgotten
as we walk
shadow bracelets
adorn the trees
gathering together at the pond
dancing a welcome
to autumn
how to describe this photo
this painting
these nature lines 
languishing
sweeping
caressing the shore
wiggles and squiggles
while a shorebird 
reflects

full moon
nestled within branches
strives to appear
reflection fun
a pair of tweezers 
a spot of bother
together playing,
playing together
farewell, sweet Saco
sparkles of sun
soft blue water
rocky edges 
glistening shadowing holding
It’s Tuesday and I’m participating in the Slice of Life.
Thank you, Two Writing Teachers,
for creating this supportive community of teacher writers.

In the Seams

This past week, I had the wonderful experience of hearing Ross Gay talk about his new book, Inciting Joy: Essays. Now, I am devouring the book itself, immersing myself in his inspirational thinking. This reading led me to a bit of joyful poetry writing…

Talking About Joy 

according to Ross Gay
poet essayist thinker writer
joy is discovered through
entanglement
it is fundamentally intertwined with connection
belonging to 
something other than yourself
something bigger than yourself
something where more than you is at the core

yet, he says 
together
we will hurt one another
we will have sorrow

perhaps his point is
to open ourselves to others
means sorrow and joy
means messy

****

he reminds us to hold this truth:
people create beautiful robust lives
in the midst of
oppressive 
intolerable 
painful conditions

joy is in the seams

I love that: joy is in the seams


****

the next morning
after I heard his wisdom
we decided to go 
the ‘regular’ way
thinking our early morning start
was before the construction 
the painful development of our local ‘purple line’

(we were wrong)

our local street is now code for 
one merciless intersection after another
block by block
road closure
single lane advance
one at a time
a horrible driving experience

there was 
an anonymous apathetic impassive worker
holding a stop sign
WAIT
WAIT
WAIT
all traffic slowed in a long queue

then we saw 
on the embankment to our left
seven construction workers
in their bright yellow vests
standing together
in a circle
yes, really truly honestly 

I counted the workers

grouped in a circle
they each swayed and swirled their hips
laughing rocking moving 
in unison
then they paused
and began alternate twist toe touches
all at the same time
as if rehearsed

choreographed exercise
to start the day
typically stern faces 
nonexistent

I breathed in their delight 
smiled deeply
feeling anew

I need to 
pay more attention 
to the beauty 
of this world.

Doe a Deer

As soon as Mom and big sister Frog leave for school, little Bird rushes to her sister’s bedroom and takes possession of Frog’s favorite stuffed animal, a toy deer. This toy is basically off-limits whenever her big sister is around, but ‘when the Frog’s away, the Bird will play.’ I’m impressed that Bird has created this routine, recognizing that school days are the best time to play with Frog’s dolls and toys. 

I haven’t shared anything about the grandkids in quite some time, so I thought this would be a fun topic for today’s slice. Let me see if I can find a few fun photos, too (without sacrificing the children’s privacy).

Here, Poppa and the girls make biscuits together.

Frog started preschool in August, leaving Bird in the care of her grandparents. (Both sets of grandparents share childcare, on different days of the week). Two year old Bird is getting lots of focused and loving one-on-one attention, and in these few weeks, we are all noticing a language explosion. To date, Bird hasn’t been as verbal as Frog, speaking primarily in one word utterances and relying primarily on nonverbal pointing and grunting. I credit her older sister with this…I mean, if Frog is speaking for you, why do you have to speak at all? Bird comprehends everything we are saying; she simply doesn’t try to talk – silence has been the path of least resistance. Now, however, with Frog away all day, five days a week, using her own voice has come in very handy. Bird’s language is truly blossoming.

For Bird, her sister’s toy deer reigns supreme. She loves to carry it throughout the house while Frog is at school, letting it keep her company as she plays with other toys and activities. Most days, she won’t be separated from it. She even likes me to perch the deer nearby to ‘watch her’ when she eats her meals. (We have to keep deer clean/away from the food, yes?) 

Here, a full menagerie joins us from a distance, to watch Bird eat lunch, lol.

In my very best Julie Andrews imitation, I started singing Doe a Deer as she carried that little toy around, and now we sing this all day long. I honestly think this one song has been the key to her stringing more than one word together, she loves this song so much. When I arrive in the morning, Bird now greets me with the words ‘doe a deer, Nana,’ and that’s my cue to start singing. Bird has learned every word of the song and sings along. She sings this to herself, too, and all of us are trying to capture a recording, but so far we have failed. Her singing is precious.

Our own house is in the midst of remodeling, so we come to Frog and Bird’s house to babysit rather than vice versa. It’s been eye-opening to see the children in their own world, becoming more familiar with their most favorite activities and where they like to spend their time. We have been having lots of fun together. Before Bird goes down for her midday nap, we always take time to put things back the way they were in Frog’s room, tidying the room to be welcoming for her when she comes home, and laying deer on Frog’s bed to greet her. 

Bird has her own favorite lovey, a chipmunk. Here, she feeds him acorns.

When she gets home from school, Frog needs a little bit of time to herself in her room (“quiet alone time”) and then we all have good fun together. The current favorite activities are dance parties, playdough, playing outside, building with Legos, and coloring. 

I’m so glad I know how to make homemade playdough!

That’s all for today, except to say – we are truly blessed by these little dears! (pun intended)

It’s Tuesday and I’m participating in the Slice of Life. Thank you, Two Writing Teachers, for creating this supportive community of teacher writers.

Waking Recollections

Early in the morning, this past Friday, I woke up so alert and I replayed every second of the day before – when my parents were buried at Arlington Cemetery. I ended up writing eight (8!) pages in my journal, as I tried to decompress. Let me share a poem about my wakeful thinking and this special day.

waking recollections
in dark of night 
clarity 
rushes through my mind’s door
holding
every memorable moment 
every caring conversation 
every tender touch  
letting me
embrace these again 

thoughts gather like an old engine warming up
sputtering spewing spitting
so many different directions
all at once

there we were at Arlington Cemetery
the day bright and clear
my four brothers and I
loving family and friends
to bury Dad and Mom

so many faces I had not seen 
in years
new babies to meet
hugs kisses squeezes 

waking recollections
in the dark of night

remember the waiting room -
just my brothers and I 
the military escort 
explaining logistics
how the procession works
my eyes fixating on boxes of tissue 
the realization 
this room held pain grief tragedy
young military lives lost

whereas we were here to honor 
lives lived fully and long 

outside in the parking lot
little ones danced and squealed
stories chuckles whispers shared
such a glorious day

my cousins, aunts, uncles 
my parents’ cousins, too
so many friends from long ago
neighbors and colleagues
everyone here together
supporting us

the military service -
we walked behind the caisson
cannons fired from the hill
the honor guard in rapt attention
band marching, playing Taps
rifles fired in a 21 gun salute
while eight sailors held the flag
so reverently
over my parents’ urns
turning, folding, respecting

that moment -
the officer
handed the flag to me
saying 
on behalf of the President of the United States
the United States Navy and
a grateful nation
please accept this flag
as a symbol of our appreciation for
your loved one’s
honorable and faithful service

he looked right at me as he spoke
and his eyes watered
leaving my eyes 
his mirror

their resting place -
now they are nestled together
on the hill
under the tree
overlooking the cemetery

their great grandchildren play among the headstones

a fabulous celebration followed
in the officers’ club
like so many days long ago
it feels so ‘once upon a time’
those early years 
when base life was my daily life
so much has changed
then and now

waking recollections
in the dark of night

remember we arrived early -
before the burial
and set everything up
the guard at the base gate 
spoke with an accent
our armed forces, so diverse

the room came alive -
sweet memorabilia on the table
slideshow through the years
stories shared at the mic 
spontaneous laughter and tears 

so many conversations 
so many relationships
intersecting

he tells me he was head of security
remembers me as a teenager
she tells me she’s my father’s cousin
and I am just like my mother
they tell me they are longtime friends
from my brother’s church

remember, too -
oh yes yes yes
she would love to have 
her grandparents' china

what a story -
the coincidence of parking
next to them after so long estranged
the unopened letter now in their hands
and hope to heal this family hurt

remember how -
the room became so quiet 
when I shared my poem

in the middle of the night
I am overflowing 

let me sit with this word - recollection 
let me hold in my heart
look closely at its middle: the word ‘collect’ 

we collect what we love, yes? 
to re-collect 
is to savor these treasures again 
to use one’s thoughts 
to gather these love moments again 

to sift through them 
like treasures on a beach 
holding the best ones very close
 
waking recollections
in dark of night 
clarity rushes through my mind’s door
holding
every memorable moment 
every caring conversation 
every tender touch  
letting me
embrace these again

It’s Tuesday and I’m participating in the Slice of Life. Thank you, Two Writing Teachers, for creating this supportive community of teacher writers.

Assurances

This is a very exciting week around here. On Thursday, my parents will be interred at Arlington Cemetery. We have waited a long time for this precious day. Dad died two years ago, in early September, in the midst of the pandemic; Mom preceded him in death, dying in October of 2018. Dad was a Navy Admiral, and Arlington Cemetery is his chosen destination. 

I live in the D.C. area and have visited Arlington Cemetery several times, but I have never witnessed someone’s burial. We have tons of family and friends coming from out of town, to be present at this unique and special honor. 

So, that’s what is “front and center.”

Let me tell you about our staging…about the background scenery…about the “side plots.” Simply put, we’re in the midst of major renovation, here at our home. After almost a full year of discovering, evaluating, and planning fixes for the structural problems of our home, we began construction repairs on August 1st. This involved a total ‘gutting’ of our kitchen. I was not naive about the timing – I knew immediately that the work was so enormous, I should not trust that it would be completed by the time of my parents’ burial. Thankfully, one of my brothers lives in the D.C. area as well, and he was totally fine with taking the lead on all “hosting” duties. We could focus on getting the home repairs that were needed.

This week, we’ve put a moratorium on the kitchen/family room remodeling for Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday – there is simply too much going on with all our visitors (none of whom are staying here at my house, thank goodness, lol). I want to focus on my family, I want to be fully present at the service for my parents, I want to savor all the remembrances.

Months back, before the work began, I smiled at my contractor’s response when I shared this ‘calendar of events’ with him; he assured me that there would be no problem – they’d be done mid-September.

The work began August 1st

Installation of a steel beam across the room was the most grueling and essential part of the remodeling.

It is an enormous effort, this remodeling; there have been support posts, a steel beam, roof issues, you name it. As the work continued (at a very good pace, honestly), there have been a few setbacks and surprises in the work to be done (isn’t this always the truth, with a home remodeling effort?). Upon several delays, my contractor updated his timeline, saying they’d be done on the last day of September (this past Friday). 

All I can say: I am so thankful I have never counted on the work being done this week. There will be NO company at this house! lol

Although it was painful to learn we had structural issues with our home, the beam opened up the kitchen space beautifully.

Look how bright and open the kitchen space became!

As I write, I am sitting at the island/bar of my dream kitchen – beautiful cabinets, counters, floor…let me show you…

I love the natural light from all the windows. I love all the space. I especially love the quartz countertops, having only had laminate counters before.

Unfortunately, my kitchen is basically akin to one you might find on display in a showroom – it looks great but it is not functioning. We’re close, we just aren’t quite there yet.

Yes, we have a faucet, but there is no running water at the sink. All the appliances remain in the living room, not hooked up. All of the drawers along one wall of cabinetry don’t open – which reminds me, when is a drawer not a drawer? When the contractor forgets to order drawer inserts and you must wait for these at a later date. There are endless ‘to do’s’ on a ‘punch list’ – all the little things that get pushed aside while something bigger gets done. Oh, and the guys are struggling to install a new (main) door to the house; it is missing its locking mechanism and we’ve been blockading the door at night for more than a week, to feel ‘safer.’ 

This past Friday, my contractor assured me that he’d be done today – yes, today, Tuesday. October 4th. C’mon, be serious! There is simply no way! Look at all that still needs doing.

Honestly, I am fine with this. I assured him:

  • Work at a pace where the work is completed well. 
  • Take all the time you need. 
  • Just don’t show up tomorrow. Or Thursday. Or Friday. 
  • We look forward to seeing you on Monday.

Truth – it already ‘feels’ like I have a new kitchen. It is a great space to sit and write – and it is very quiet, before the workers arrive.

All will be well.

To the day! To the week ahead!

It’s Tuesday and I’m participating in the Slice of Life. Thank you, Two Writing Teachers, for creating this supportive community of teacher writers.