in the morning

It must simply be the commute. The long, dark, lonely commute. My mind rehearses everything, wanders down trails unnecessary. I would much rather be singing loudly, writing, drinking, kissing, eating - anything during that hour-long drive in the dark.

Then, when I get to school everything dissolves. I feel immediately better. I walk by JS's room and she is there, always, either sitting on a desk or at the board, lecturing. She is spinning stories, analyzing characters, she is writing in beautiful cursive on the white-board. Her students are always sitting there, simply listening while she is being fabulous, while she is telling them about Paris and the United Arab Emirates and what it was like to grow up in the 1960s. It calms me. It is like knowing that someone, right now, is drinking a beer at the Hopleaf in Chicago and becoming drunk. It is like knowing that that gigantic Buddha staring out towards the sea, just outside Hong Kong, is still staring at the sea. It is like knowing that my lover arises, somewhere on this Earth, makes pancakes from scratch, and brushes his teeth. Therefore, seeing her sitting on that desk, a quick glance through the window as I walk by, is the most comforting way to start my day. All is normal, all is well.

I walked through the commons just now, and two of my students on the upper level indoor track, yelled down "Ms. Evans!" and waved at me from their first hour PE class. I smiled. It will be a good day, simply because William and Anna said hello to me.

It astounds me that days on the calendar tick by. That dates, seemingly far away, looming in the distance like fog or far away city lights, eventually come closer, eventually come so close that upon rising, one realizes, today is that day - today has finally come.