16 April 2013

Of Philly

Home from Philly.
It was lovely...

I continue to be amazed at
the privilege that is teaching.

Our classroom was the expo center lounge (read: the bar)
and both Richard and I found it fitting.
This is the classroom we first taught in together
last August... I've said it before and will do so again-
how the time flies.
I am not now who I was even then.

The students were stunning- their ideas, enthusiasm.
Watching them feed off of one another is a joy.
Watching them try, watching some struggle
with the fear that often accompanies trying something new
and overcoming it, owning it...
there are few things I've personally known to be so satisfying.

I said late last year that I wanted to begin
living more outside of myself,
more for others.
It is in the classroom for one,
where that goal is realized.

I so enjoy the process, the setting.
It has bettered me,
and, in teaching, I gain as much as I give.

How many people can say that about what they do?

* * *

Philly was friendship as well...
ample laughter.
I met other instructors-
skill, wit, and talent by the boatload.
I reconnected with some of my earlier contacts and shared
a hotel room and kindred conversations with a lovely woman
who gave me tattoo tights and took only
a piece of my heart in return.

There was talk over meals, in the car,
of life and love,
and how those who want to be in our lives
will find a way to be present with us.

We talked of letting the others go.
In some ways, we did.

We talked about support and pseudo-support,
rumors, friendship and pseudo-friendship,
the mediums and the skill sets, the souls we care for,
our children, our concerns as artists and women and mothers.

We didn't sleep much, and though my body was tired
by the third day, my heart and head felt somehow rested.

It was an easy smile environment, Philadelphia.

* * *

Meanwhile, at home, my world continued on without me.
The Monkey had his first Tball game... a grand HELLO! to
the world of team sports, and he was terrified.

My phone hummed away in my apron pocket on Saturday,
an eruption of text messages from friends and family.
Sending pictures.
Sharing progress.

He got past his anxiety and began to enjoy himself,
and I... the proud mama, watched his first hit
via video from several hundred miles north.

Saturday at home was also farewell.
The memorial service for a family friend, age 30.

My mom sent a photo of the final send-off. 
His passing was a blessing,
and in the peace that followed the too-long storm,
balloons he'd requested in place of flowers
dotted the blue Carolina sky.

He was incredible,
that man.

* * *

I returned to Fuquay late Saturday night, 
in time to be home for The Monkey's sixth 
birthday on Sunday.

Before I left that evening, however,
we friends sat around on stools, laughing at the
lovely and lopsided years that we each seem to stumble
through on our way to becoming all that we might be.

We sipped Evolution, drank a toast to the strange
beauty of life, and talked with a "comme ci, comme ca"
lightness about the nature of existence.

Do we live by luck in this world,
or do we live with intention?

We tapped our Solo cups together
and looked around the empty classroom.
We smiled.

We said, both.


  1. oh you...one of the best and brightest, you :) xoxoxo

  2. Smiling for you my dear friend! Happieness looks good on you :)

  3. Now you know why I have taught for 20 years - it keeps me humble.

  4. its a good life sister
    its a good life

    love and light