I’m so excited to be participating in Teachers Write 2014! Here’s what I wrote in response to today’s mini-lesson:
In the golden light of morning I sit on my back porch at the round patio table, considering the day that lies ahead. The luxury of another long summer day–filled with crisp blue skies and sunshine and choice and possibility. I sip my coffee, its rich aroma coating the air, mixing with the scents of freshly mown grass and hints of damp, rich earth from the recent rains. The deep green of varied trees surrounds me, their branches stretching into the brilliant sky. Bursts of color from the nearby garden dot my peripheral vision. What will I do today?
Posing that question is a luxurious opportunity only dreamed of in the hurly-burly swirly school days. I say it softly aloud, holding and savoring the words in my mouth like a softly melting chocolate. Decadent and delightful–a guilty pleasure. I shift in the metal chair, feeling the diamond mesh pressing into my thighs, indenting me with a pattern I will carry into the morning when I arise. What other weights, I wonder, less visible or tangible, have impressed their pattern onto me? As I luxuriate in the absence of school pressures, what evidence of them marks me? Do I unknowingly carry their imprint as I meander into seamless summer days?
Birds call, some melodic and others harshly repetitive. A soft breeze stirs the air, mixing scents and brushing gently against my sleep-warm skin. The chickens flap, rustle, coo and cluck in their coop. I breathe deeply and consciously shrug the weight and tension from my shoulders. I imagine rubbing those imprinted lattice marks, smoothing them into my freckled, sun-kissed skin until they fade away like the softest whisper. Again I pause and inhale the aromas of summer.
What will I do today?