Have I only posted 50-something times on this blog? Has it only been since January?
January seems like a lifetime ago - happier, simpler, and I was reaching for something about which I was so certain. Aah, we've hit on something - another mirage? Another house of mirrors named Certainty? Yes. I look back through dusky memories of January, February, March when I was sitting on top of a bubble that would never pop, most certainly. Sitting in a class of 6 or 7 peers, clad in scarves, galoshes, gloves and winter hats.
Mary Ann, a colorful memory of green and purple. A Mardi Gras of life and art and ideas against the fire red of her hair and freckles, her apple-green eyes gently prod, saying 'keep going, keep pushing, keep thinking'. Her color lights up the otherwise drab room like a single firecracker in the night.
Meghann sits calmly, tranquilly sipping hot tea with her scarf bound around her neck, a thoughtful smile dancing on her face. Her eyes miss nothing, though. She reminds me of those Victorian beauties who just exude placidness and wonder. Her mien stands in direct opposition to mine, I think. Maybe that's why I appreciate her so much.
Michelle was so unsure in the beginning, as we all dragged ourselves into the classroom on a snowy, freezing night in January. Michelle's eyes are so much like baby blue lasers that I can't help but to look at them and be mesmerized. She's an optometrist. Figures. She was so unsure in the beginning, and so were "we" I think. A scientist! But then she started to talk, and piece the beauty of the world together in her own way, a way sort of different from my own, but sort of the same, and it was like watching puzzle pieces move themselves into place. Her ideas inspired me to think differently.
Dawn. Dawn was always one step away from greatness, and one step away from teaching all of us. She was the one with the most to balance in her life, I think. so much happening, so much to take care of. I have myself to take care of, and sometimes I even fail at that. The failure to do what Dawn always could and did do is why I am writing this afternoon, I guess. I didn't and don't do it. I sit and ponder, dying to make sense of things, and end up spinning my wheels until I'm so frustrated that I can only sit motionless. Everything has crashed to the ground, and I need to pick up the pieces. I need to move into action, scrape myself up off the ground and dust myself off.
My mind is paralyzed. Motion seems impossible, even painful. So why do I keep thinking of those nights in Mary Ann's class, and of the peers I think so highly of? What's the difference, anyway?
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I think often of those classes. I think of them with a yearning to go back. It was magic; yes, I use the old cliche. It WAS magic.
ReplyDeleteThank you for your kind comments. I'm feeling low and lost these day.
I admire you. Maybe it is, as you said, our oppositeness that makes me watch you with wonder and admiration and a touch of jealousy. To be a Jessica who takes risks, dares to try, flies away to recognize the home in the place she's just left. It's a beautiful story, truly. Sometimes, I want to hitch myself to the coattails of people like you; I want to tag along for the ride, to be swept up in the storm that I am too timid to enter alone.