SOL #7 - Snow

take a handful of snow

feel it's weight

full and fluffy

small and dense

heavy means green grass and sunshine days

light means swirling blustery flakes

by mid March

it is piled

thick and high and dirty

creating blockades and bruising flesh

put your head down against the cold bite

and shuffle quick as you can 

from door to door

by June the earth has absorbed the dirt, the ice, the cold

in October, we wish for one more day without it

eventually, like a cat, it sneaks up on us or

catches us by surprise with its harsh cold

coating everything in a peaceful blanket of snow

Shoes I Couldn't Fill

In addition to turning 15, falling in love for the first time, and dealing with my grief and the grief that surrounded me, I was also responsible for taking care of my Auntie's older two children.  My uncle paid me, but the expectation was for me to be there for them for more than just day to day care. 

To this day I feel like I failed miserably.  I failed by my standards.  I couldn't comfort and care for and be everything they were missing.  We were confined to a house that had my Auntie around every corner.  It was a small, cozy, home, but the space felt impossible to fill.

The kids needed love, spontaneity, discipline, routine, fun, and activity, not to mention clean clothes and nutritious food.  The only thing I had to give completely was my love for them.  Even that fell short, because of the mother that was missing. I allowed them too much time in front of the TV and Spaghettio's were served more frequently then was healthy.  My grandmother was just a few houses away and provided back up when needed; she had other pillars to uphold; this one was mine.

I felt defeated every day.  I was grieving.  I had more responsibility than I could handle.  The shoes were too big and though I tried desperately to fill them.

The boy continued to be my refuge.

Content

I turned 15 that summer.  The boy was granted a rare day off from farm work, just to spend the day with me.  He surprised me by taking me to a large city a few hours away for dinner, a movie, and a little shopping (he had gotten the outing pre-approved by my parents).  I didn't want anything material from him, nor did I expect it, but I remember the boots.  (Children of the 90's will appreciate this gift more than others).  A pair of black, mid calf, lace up Dr. Martens.

I still have them.  They are in the closet at my parents house.

That evening we returned to our small town and spent the evening cruising on the motorcycle before grabbing a pint of Ben and Jerry's and heading home.

Thoughts of the one person who was missing from my 15th birthday were pushed to the back of my mind.

I felt safe.  I felt content.

Safe

The boy and I did go to prom that April.  It was perfect, everything a first prom should be.  I spent time with my mom finding the perfect dress, shoes, and jewelry; a forest green, crushed velvet, spaghetti strap, floor length number.  Simple, low-key, silver heels, "diamond studs", and a "diamond pendant" completed the look.  Simple.  No frills.  Perfect for me.

The boy picked me up in his shiny pickup, opened the door for me and took me to super at the best restaurant in town with all of our friends.  We slow danced every song and attended the after prom party until dawn.  I think we even won some good prizes!  He dropped me off just as the sun was coming up and my mother insisted he come in and stay for a nap rather than drive the 30 additional miles home.  We both napped and when we woke, had breakfast.

After breakfast, the boy gently picked out every last one of the bobby pins holding my thick, mid-back, auburn hair atop my head.  He told me he loved me and I knew I loved him too.

I felt safe.

A War Within

I am having a war within myself.

Today has been a painful day at school (work).  Too many needs, not enough time or people.  This isn't new and I know I'm not alone.  This is every teachers complaint.  As a special education teacher, the needs of students are magnified.

When I first started my Master's program in Special Education, my intent was never to be a special education teacher.  At the time, I was 22, newly married, and working at a depressed area school.  My intent was to serve the children in my classroom better because the resources were not available to provide this support outside of the classroom. 

Fast forward a few years, and my husband and I moved to be closer to family.  I was thankful at the time for the Special Education degree because it allowed me to get into a hard to get in to school district. 

I almost quit teaching all together after that first year. 

I put in for a classroom and was not granted the request.  Too new.  Too young.  Too needed in Special Education.  I seriously thought about quitting.  Then I was granted a transfer to a different special education position in a different building. 

I had a baby, I was gone for 1/3 of the year, and was too exhausted to realize I still didn't like being a special education teacher.  I was in survival mode. 

The next year, I realized again.  I applied for a transfer to a part time position...could not find part time daycare. 

The next year, I had baby number two, I was gone for 1/3 of the year, and once again was too tired and preoccupied to think about not being a special education teacher. 

The next year, no baby...I didn't like special education.  Again, I applied for a transfer, two actually, and despite nearly 10 years of stellar evaluations from five different principals, I was denied the transfers.  This time for only one reason.  Too needed in Special Education. 

The next year and the next, same stories. 

Now it is this year...our team of specialists has changed and I adore my team...I adore my students.  I continue to mourn the general education classroom.  I am passionate about my work.  I can't imagine being anything but an educator.  Still, I am being told it if not for sure they will grant a transfer.  I am looking into private education.  The pay is less.

What do I do?

Where is my heart?

What is best for me?  What is best for my family?

How will this affect my future?

God knows my heart, but what is HIS plan for me?

I am at war within myself. 

Happiness

Life was good for a while.  Maybe even great!  I continued to find solace in the boy, in his family, in time spent with a family who was not over their head in grief.  Our grand plans to spend even more time together over Christmas break were ruined by a blizzard.  For Valentine's day I received flowers from not only the boy, but also from his brother (remember....the one I was betrothed to)...yellow carnations.  The card read, "Hey Sis, thank you for making my little brother so happy."

Those boys, who I had been warned to stay away from, had caught me and given me a wonderful gift of happiness.

Prom in November

I became more and more dependent on the boy. I spent all my free time with him and became a basketball stat so I could spend even more time with him.  He drove me home whenever he could and came to every grief filled family event from spaghetti suppers (an old tradition) to candle lightings (a new tradition).  I also spent a great deal of time with his family and become a part of their inner circle very rapidly.  They treated me as if I belonged with them. And I felt like I did.

During this time, my family members visited the cemetery frequently, but I couldn't bring myself to go because I knew I would lose hold of my fragile composure. The boy encouraged me to go, to grieve, and when I refused, he promised to be there when I was ready to go.

I spent the weekends traveling to see the baby, who remained in a pediatric care unit at a hospital several hours away.   The boy usually met me at the junction on my way home from these weekends because he knew I needed a break from the grief and my family...needed him.

By the end of November, the baby was finally home. Life took on a look of normalcy, but everyday continued to be tinged with grief.

One weekend, while watching a movie and sharing a pint of Ben and Jerry's, the boy asked if I would go to prom with him. It was November, prom was not until April. I had no question that he would still be there in five months time.