Wanted: Days of Yore

All at once tonight, in the midst of a good Facebook scroll, all the change in my life hit me like a huge truck and I couldn't figure out why or what was going on with my emotions.  Was it just the dust getting into my eyes that caused them to get a bit teary?  Was it just the exhaustion that a week full of go-go-go workdays hold?

No...no, I feared it was all stemming from that dirty word...change.

As I was doing my last Facebook skim for the evening, I noticed several of my Facebook friends (who are in education) were writing about their Open House night at the various schools they teach at.  Their statuses were indeed glorious, sweet posts about the general excitement this night brings.  Statuses brimming with smiles discussing seeing old students and how they're getting back into the swing of the life they have created at their school.  They wrote the post I would have written if I were still at one of my previous schools.

But...I'm not.

So, for the second year in a row, I will not be seeing my sweet former students who boost my confidence for the new year.  I will not be greeted by, "HEY MS. B!!" or "I MISSED YOU SO MUCH!!"  I had a good 5 year stretch of those sentiments.  Rather, tomorrow night, I will be greeted with new faces and see a hallway full of big kids with smiles, running to greet their former educators.

I don't know how this post sounds.  Maybe I sound bitter...I'm not.  Maybe I sound mopey...I'm not (okay, I am a bit).  I don't, BY ANY MEANS, want this to sound like I regret my decision or I'm not so, so excited to begin my journey within the halls of Freedom, I most definitely am.  I just miss those little things that working at a school for a number of years bring.  I have "mourned" my status as a veteran teacher within a school for the past two years.  It was hard last year and it's hard this year.

The thing is...life takes different directions.  I would've never guessed this time last year that I would be sitting in Morganton getting ready to begin my (hopefully long) tenure at Freedom.  The past several months have been the strangest ride so far in my life.

It just hits me sometimes.  How much I miss the "familiarity" that years of being at the same school brings.  But, I have to remember that this was exactly how it was my first year at Rockingham.  By the next year, I had kids coming back to see me.  I had developed more student-teacher relationships.  So, for now, I will just be a little jealous.  I'll be a little envious of the teachers tomorrow night who get those greetings and hellos at their doors.  I'll mourn the days of yore when that was me.  I'm guessing they'll be a few times that I get to missing my babies who really aren't babies anymore.  But I'll be okay.  I'll be ready to embrace this new journey and trust that in the end, it'll all be worth it.

#herewego

Happy Birthday, Granny

I pull up the crunchy rocks and park behind her black car.  I chuckle (as I do every time) when I see her "MAMABARR" license plate.  I walk up to her door and ring the little bell (even though I know she's home).  I like for her to hear me coming.

I walk into the kitchen, inhaling the air of her home, and shout, "Yoooo-hoooo!"  I hear her familiar laugh as she gets up off the couch and comes to into the kitchen with a big smile.

She greets me with a "Hey, Baby!"  I chuckle and fall into her arms that have known my embrace for all the years of my life.  She invites me into the living room and we sit and catch up.  She tells me what's been going on with the family, neighborhood, church, and town.  She asks me questions about what's going on in my life, and I fill her in on what's been happening in my "neck of the woods".

She asks me if I'm hungry (as if she can already read my mind).  I bashfully say, "Well, I could go for a grilled cheese." She smiles and obliges my request saying, "Come on in the kitchen and let me get one for you."  I smile as she places the sandwich on my plate...bite into the sandwich that I can never, no matter how hard or how many times I try, replicate.  It is as good as it always is.

She sits down and we continue to talk.  We talk about the future...we talk about the past...we talk about fears...we talk about worries...we talk about hopes...we talk about dreams. 

We sit and continue to converse for awhile.  I finally say, "Well, I better get going."  She replies with, "Why don't you just stay here!"  I laugh and tell her I really wish I could (and it is the truth...I wish I could just stay in the little, happy bubble she has created where all my worries seem to stop and pause).  I head for the door and we hug one more time (I'm not a huge hugger, but I relish in her's).  She tells me to be careful and to come back soon as she walks me out the door.  I assure her I will.  I reverse out the driveway and wave to her, smiling as I head down the road.

Today would be my grandmother's 83rd birthday.  I wish more than anything that the above scenario were possible.  I wish that I could call her or send her a card or just see her.  I know that the year after someone dies is the hardest.  I know all the "firsts" are difficult.  I foresee the holidays being tough for my family.  I have to have faith that she is happy and at peace.  I hold onto her memories like a tiny child holds onto their first favorite toy.

After she passed and everyone began the task of cleaning out her house, we found so many interesting things.  We found old letters, old books, old pictures, and other items.  I feel like I've learned all this new information about her.  I wish I could ask her about who that person in the picture was or why she purchased this and that.  I wish I could ask her about the letters we found from my grandfather as he was courting her.  I've also discovered the little things that we have in common.  Keeping a stockpile of cards and stationary.  Writing little poems for people (I also discovered my grandfather did the same).  So many little things and questions and thoughts that I wish I could share with her.

The thought of living in her house brings me mixed emotions.  In a way, it really means she's gone and not coming back.  Because of that, it is a little sad.  However, I'm also excited to continue her legacy of hospitality, good times, and good food.  She always welcomed everyone and had an open door policy.  All that to say it's just been very bittersweet.  I hope she approves of all the updates and things I've been doing and plan to do with her sweet little house that we all love so much.

Happy birthday, Granny.  I miss you more than words could say.  I hope, more than anything, you are having a giant piece of yellow layer cake with chocolate frosting up in heaven with a nice cup of coffee.  I love you...