After days of inversion, snow pack, and moping, mourning skies, the sun is finally shining!
I hurry home, pull on my sweats, running shoes, and a hat I won't need.
The immediate visible change is that the once-clinging snow pack, has retreated. Sidewalks are passable, grass is visible, and everything lost after the first winter storm is coming out to play. I notice an eyeglass case sitting on a rock. I imagine it was dropped from someone's unzipped backpack, unnoticed, and that very night the sky poured out thick snow. Today, the owner will come home and see his glasses that have been missing for months.
There is a scarf! And a candle! Broken, yet clean, protected by the snow pack.
Just a few short years ago, a new teacher walked into my classroom, literally. It's the first thing we shared. The next thing we shared was a group of students we mentored, and then a three week class, and now we share all our students! A day rarely passes when we don't communicate. We are like parents who can only speak the way we do about our wonderful, errant, aggravating, amazing students, because we're the only ones who can understand.
The warmth of shared responsibility.
Three short years ago, three of us drove to Thanksgiving Point for our first beekeeping class. Together we've suffered, learned, explored, questioned, and gifted one another with honey, bee gloves, and books. Together, we have opened hives, scooped bees, caged a queen, deliberated over mites, sun exposure and best practice methods. We've worried over neighborhood pesticide use, if we winterized enough and on time, and when to take our share of honey. Today when the warm weather burst, so did our bees! It brought joy that only the three of us could share.
The warmth of discovery.
Today in AP Lit, an adorable student leaned forward and asked, "So, how did you and Tony fall in love?" I was shocked that she referred to Mr. Martinez in the familiar "Tony," and shocked that she would ask seconds before we were to start an important investigation into a short story. Yet, it was too sweet of an inquiry to ignore, and so I gave that small circle of six students, a very short chapter one of our love story. I was reminded that our relationship began under a foot of cold snow. It took a few years of warmth and thawing to develop.
The warmth of love.
When the snow starts to melt, look for what lies underneath!