Slivers of Light

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A light dusting of snow covered the sidewalks this morning; crystalline flakes, light and silvery like slivers of shattered glass—and as light as Hawaiian shaved ice—covered my windshield. The sky overhead was still a dark bluish-black, but it reflected the early morning light of the city on the underside.

I slid into the driver’s seat of my car and fired up the ignition. The light of the headlights ignited the area in front of me, as I turned on the windshield wipers. The snow fluttered from the windows as I backed out; my headlights catching these silver splinters as they glistened and sparkled like glitter.

I smiled because—for just the tiniest of moments—these slivers of light made it feel like Christmas.

Musings of an Early Morning

Pin It The whistle of the train sounds from the distance over the sleepy city as I lie awake, listening. It’s a bit funny, really. Lately I’ve been tired, and getting up in the morning has been a challenge.

But not today.

Maybe is it because it’s the first day of September, a day usually marking the transition from summer to autumn. Perhaps it’s because of carefree sun-filled days readying to turn themselves to amber leaf canopies and crisp mornings.

Perhaps.

School started a week ago. Judging from the photos and a few posts I’ve written, you’ve probably already figured that out. I have a new Joey this year. He’s awesome. He has already started giving me plenty of fodder, now I just need to get into the mode of writing it all down as it happens; far too many moments slip away because I’m in the midst of teaching and don’t have anything handy to write on.

I wanted to write a post about my Joey from last year. I wanted to write about how he showed up in my classroom at Back to School Night last week. I wanted to write up the interaction between us. You would have laughed. I wanted to tell you all how much I missed having this boy in my classroom. I’d have told you how he finds me in the school at recess, lunch, or after school and makes it a point to give me a hug, or simply let me know that he is still awesome—but sixth-grade awesome.

He’s also humble.

Did I ever mention that I was on crossing duty last year?

I hated crossing duty.

I lied to myself, put on a smile, and pretended that it everything was great.

But secretly? I hated it. I’d stand there with a handheld stop sign and tick off traffic when I allowed students to cross through the intersection. I always felt like an idiot.

Really.

This year we were allowed to sign up for what job we’d like to have for the year. I signed up for the bike rack area at the back of school.

It’s quiet.

I don’t see too many parents. There’s no vehicular traffic. I get to talk to the kids a lot more than I did last year. There’s not as much pressure associated with the area. It kind of reminds me of the desert. The rows of corn in the field beyond the chain link fence are readying to turn. Before I know it, there will be a harvest and the stalks will be hewn down.

I wish they’d planted pumpkins again this year. Pumpkins always seem to make me feel happy, they remind me of Halloween.

I went to the grocery store yesterday for razorblades and yogurt – almost sounds like the name of a band, doesn’t it? I found myself drawn to the aisle filled to capacity with Halloween candy, decorations, and costumes.

I love Halloween.

The clock now rolls over to 5:43 and I have finally caught up on my blog reading. My alarm clock will sound in just a little bit, offering up a lame attempt to wake me – I take that back, it’ll play a Dustin Christensen song which I’ve found really helps to get me going during the mornings. The regular alarm sound just wasn’t working out for me.

There is goes again – the train whistle sounding; I can also hear the telltale sounds of traffic starting up. From out the window, the sky is a deep blue and the world is just coming to life.

I will now join it.

Cloudbursts at Sunrise

Pin It I awoke this morning to a daybreak saturated in pictorial cloud character; gray and puffy cauliflower blossoms, like clumps of cottonwood fluff caught in the wind clustered around the rising inclines of Mount Timpanogos—heaps of whipped cream upon a vanilla mountain. Rich, buttery sunlight inked its way over the slopes like caramel topping slathered over a savory dessert.

Even being caught on my early-morning commute behind a slowly moving yellow school bus couldn’t damper my day for - with windows down - the freshly mown grass glistened with the early-morning dew, coating the very air I drove through with the early flesh of summer.

The music playing became the moment.

What a truly glorious day.

Tonight I Write the Mundane

Pin It I hadn’t really planned on blogging this evening—after all, I don’t have any insights to share, I don’t feel the need to proclaim any news, and I don’t necessarily want to write anything in particular.

I guess you could say that I just wanted to write for the sake of writing.

So I do.

Today was quite the day of mundaneness, nothing extraordinary, nothing special.

I awoke. I remember having been whisked away from the most astonishing dream; I couldn’t tell you what it entailed exactly, only that it was…pleasant. I’m pretty sure that it was one of those dreams you wouldn’t mind basking in for a few additional hours (or minutes anyhow, as dreams go). However, I didn’t seek it again, but instead got ready for the day.

I went downstairs and sat at the kitchen counter, allowing the unmoving world outside my sliding glass door to stare me straight in the face. I didn’t read emails or blog posts—I probably should have since my inbox and reader are both nearing ‘overwhelming’ levels because of disuse.

I took my glass of juice and just sat.

No music. No computer. Nothing.

It was nice…and it was the only moment of complete, untainted stillness I think I was able to enjoy today—until now. Not that I mind the bustle of chaos my life is on a usual day, because I don’t.

I made the familiar three-and-a-half-mile drive to work this morning. I didn’t listen to music. I didn’t talk on the phone. I didn’t even speak. I instead listened to the steady rhythm of my car as it sped along the deserted streets.

It was nice.

And now I am finished writing. I have nothing more to say, and I am content with this. And, after all, I told you it would be mundane.

So it is.

The Last Day

Pin It What if it was your last day on Earth?

Funny that I should be blogging about this subject so early on a Saturday morning, especially when I stayed up so much later than I usually do on a Friday night.

When I awoke this morning from a somewhat restful night’s slumber, I felt the headache that had only started to sprout last night having matured into a full-fledged migraine. It pulsed, it throbbed, and it was awful. Yet, amidst it all, I had an anthem of sorts playing in and amongst the pain.

I took a helpful dose of a trusted migraine remedy, and stumbled to a hot shower. I let the drenchingly-warm water cascade over my head and down my back, slowly pulling away the hurt.

In about 15 or 20 minutes, the pain had almost fully subsided. I felt so much better.

Yet…

The song with which I’d awoken in my head was still playing, and a blog post was already being written. What would I do if I woke up on a particular day and knew it was to be my last on Earth? It was startling, really, to think of being here one moment, and then not the next.

It was once said in Finding Neverland: “I suppose it's like the ticking crocodile, isn't it? Time is chasing after all of us…”

I had a lot of thoughts this morning on that subject, all of which simmered in my head, and most of which I choose not to share here. But it did leave me curious…what would you do? That is, if you knew that this was it? The final showdown? The last dogfight? The conclusion of the story? The moment right before the ending credits started rolling?

For me it was a sobering thought…now I’m off to do a little living.

White Rain

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Isn’t it customary to want what it is that we do not currently have?

The past few days have been a veritable heat wave for this time of year—students sporting shorts and t-shirts at school; then again, I guess some of them do that year round. The weather has been wonderful.

This morning I felt a longing for rain—or perhaps snow, something to reflect upon. I am not the biggest snow enthusiast there is; however, there is something calming and wonderful about seeing the large, crystalline flakes drifting from the heavens like manna.

I got ready for the day—after all, one never knows when they might have to run out for a bit, and it would be nice to have already showered. Since being dressed was not really a concern, I slipped back into comfortable pajamas. I moved quietly to the window, convinced that there would be neither rain nor snow, and yet I had a strange hope that there would be. I opened the blinds and found myself surprised as I was greeted with tiny, silvery, flakes drifting from a melancholy sky.

I sat and watched them for quite awhile. The flakes began to grow in size and started to multiply. Like cottonwood fluff carrying seeds bustling with new life. The soft flakes were soon joined by others, and a slight wind picked up, driving them like a pale rainstorm.

All is right with the world. All is new.

I awoke to an orchestra

Pin It The flash of light ignited against the other side of my closed eyelids; that’s probably what awoke me from a restful slumber. The low, guttural tones of thunder followed only moments behind it, chased by the rain. The glorious downpour smattered down upon rooftop in cascades of monsoon. It layered the sidewalks in shimmery wet, inviting worms to surface for schoolchildren to step on as they make their way to my classroom later this morning in this watery-shimmered world.

I moved through the house with lights off, attentive to the wondrous orchestra playing all around me—reverberating through the four walls and ceiling—and even permeating through the very earth below me.

Light flashed, bringing to life the images hanging on the walls of my home for a brief moment of time.

Exhilaration.

Windows were thrust open, and the sounds were fully welcomed into my world—or I into theirs. Above, the lights of the city reflected off of the dark, twisting clouds as a train whistle pierced the darkness from someplace off in the distance; a melancholy souvenir of places far away, and stages of summer I loathed, yet hunger to live again.

But for now, the rain continues to fall in its eternal drizzle from the skies above me, and the August rushing of wind hits the trees in my Olympic-sized backyard, adding to the ensemble which continues to acquire its musicians.

Like before, I am prepared to meet with a smile whatever challenge is here to greet me today,

Welcome, rain.

?:?? a.m.

Pin It Overhead the fan whirred.

My eyes had yet to open.

I knew it was daylight simply by the peaks of light hoping to wedge under my eyelids like crowbars of midnight vandals.

I knew I wasn’t late…my alarm clock had not yet sounded. I rested in the near-silence, basking in the newness of the day. After a moment I couldn’t take it any longer.

I gradually cracked opened my eyes.

The room was brighter than I thought it ought to have been at this early hour, and for a moment I worried that I’d not set my alarm.

I checked.

6:25.

Audible sigh of relief…all indeed was still well with the world.

I lay there stretched out, with the morning still ahead of me, crowded with endless possibilities; it was waiting for me to enjoy it to the fullest.

It wasn’t long before I found myself driving that stretch of welcome, familiar road; the one my tires have trod so many times prior to this over the years. The sunlight oozed over the highest peaks of the mountains, glossing the cherry blossom and lilacs in subdued light. A favorite song from the soundtrack of my life blazed suddenly from the speakers like the rush of vibrant wind through the branches of fate.

Ah, the possibilities.

Bring it on…

I promised myself

Pin It I stepped out of my warm home into the swirling of white flakes in the breaking of first morning light.

The mountains flanking the valley were blanketed in an array of ashen blue.

The call of the daybreak filled me with exhilaration…

I felt energized for the day.

I was excited for work.

I found myself thrilled with the fact that I’d be seeing my students.

I was going to get bagels at Einstein.

This thought had percolated in my subconscious mind yesterday afternoon…I was thinking of these fabulous bagels—possibly the best on the planet—and I decided to stop and get a few after work.

Unfortunately, they were closed for the day.

Curses.

I made myself a promise that I’d go back today before I went to work.




I made good on my promise, and am glad that I did.