10 September 2008


I went for a run in the glowing pink, just-before-dawn-light.
I wore my hair in braids on top of my head and endured many "Swiss Miss" comments.
I drank coffee lovingly brewed by a lunch lady named Dolly.
I taught five [nearly] consecutive classes.
I listened to Gershwin's "Rhapsody in Blue" about eight times in a row without ever tiring of its magic spell.
I explained the word "monumentalize" to ten year olds.
I drank six Nalgenes of water.
I had a deeply satisfying laugh when I saw that a kid misspelled "refrigerator" as "rafidgearto."
I daydreamed at my desk (which is the color of Campbell's cream of tomato soup).
I gave a stern tongue-wagging to a class of antsy, awkward, noisy fifth graders.
I sat through an interminable faculty meeting with relatively good humor.
I drove all the way home with my arm out the window in the cooler breeze.
I ate roasted beets and goat cheese for dinner along with a cold glass of white.
I visited and hugged my sister and my cousin and my dear friend, all in one night.
I walked home in the now purple, just-before-twilight light.
I will go to bed early with my book and my good-smelling candle.
I will thank the Lord for this good day until I close my eyes.