Monday, September 12, 2011

The First Fifteen...

The whole house is quiet. June left for work just 30 minutes ago. Somehow I managed to drag myself from bed at an appropriate time this morning, with enough time to shower, dress, make coffee, and eat something, before I have to run out the door...and I mean run out the door. I suppose there's a reason why I connect so well to these kids I work with, 'cause I'm kinda one of 'em.

Zed's still sleeping. It's nearly 7:30 am and Zed is still sleeping because that's just what she does. I'm trying to savor the silence, working hard to enjoy this moment of kitchen table tranquility before it's all shattered by a beautiful, eye rubbing little girl wandering down the stairs, or by the seemingly harmless hands of a clock.

June keeps texting me this morning. Did you know that Roger Daltry is playing on Oct. 1st?...Hey, Stephen Wright is on the radio....Did you know that there was a giant inflatable penis being tossed around at the Michigan - Notre Dame game on Saturday? It's funny because the only thing shattering the silence right now is the cymbal smash sound of June's texts. Oops, and there's the back gate. Grandma is here...Coop Nanny, as her email suggests. Fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes of absolute solitary silence. I haven't even taken a sip of my coffee yet.

Laughing, I think, it's no big thing. Such is this life, and steady myself for what will surely be a hectic morning and afternoon. It almost always is. Back to school isn't just about falling leaves, football, school supplies, and new clothes. This year it was about an attempted murder charge, failed rehab, jail, and an endless array of etc...more than I can sometimes process.

How'd I end up here? Doing this? When did this all happen?

Fifteen minutes, and I'm still laughing, this time shaking my head to accompany the stifled giggles. If I were a drag car I'd get zero-to-too-damn-fast in no time. I guess I'd better stop typing and drink my coffee. You know, anyone that tells you they're doing exactly what they meant to do with their life, that everything worked out exactly as they had envisioned, is full of $#!t. You can get close, but there's almost no accounting for these fifteen minutes. No one tells you that. My guidance counselor told me a lot of crap, and none of it mentioned this.

It's funny. It's why I don't tell kids what to do. I tell them what they can do...what's out there...maybe try to inspire them or plant a few seeds, but I don't tell them what to do. Nobody can explain an attempted murder charge, failed rehab, jail...or these fifteen minutes...nobody.


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