February 24, 2010 “Mih Eger, you know when you had done sneezed and sumpin’ happens?”
“Um, something like what, honey? Like when someone says ‘Bless you.”?
“No, ma’am. Like when you sneeze and a lil bit o’ boo boo comes out. Cause that had happened to me right now.”
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February 22, 2010 It feels like my feet haven’t been warm at all in the last ten years. It’s raining again and I think I left my umbrella hanging on that little blue hook in the back of my classroom. My hair is flat and lifeless; my temper’s fuse is short and ever-burning.
There are dark circles under both of my eyes– looking more and more like charcoal due to the pastiness of my February flesh. That tire around my waist is growing, exponentially, I believe. Even if you can’t really tell because it’s hidden under this hand-me-down hoodie.
Spring, are we there yet?
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January 24, 2010 I have a need for silence.
Sure, I love the sound of padded puppy feet running across the tile early in the morning. And I adore the childish chatter in a third grade classroom. I love the sound of football stadiums and the roar that stays in my ears for hours after a worth-the-road-trip concert. And, yes, I’m crazy about crowded swimming pools, splashing water, and the “Mommy, watch me!”s that come along with them.
Still, I have a need.
To sit on back porches and watch the rain. To lay on the couch with a blanket, a book and a Sunday afternoon. To drive on country roads without the radio. To sit at a table and write. To walk around a yard, alive and green and mine. To take a shower in the middle of the day. To pull out old pictures and put them in stacks on the floor. To remember. To ponder. To dream.
Yes, I have a need for silence.
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January 6, 2010 Daddy said, “Well, she’s my favorite now, but I didn’t even like her at one time.” And Russ probably agrees.
Middle school kids think she’s the raddest thing ever.
Sisser sports cowboy boots and braided pigtails.
Her coach said, “Yeah, she’s fast if fast means slow.”
She’s a Camp Lake Stephens rockstar.
Sisser’ll watch three movies in one day with me and share the Diet Coke.
She fell hard once and at the end, we all cried.
Sisser’s a lover not a fighter– even if you’ve heard otherwise.
I’ve hiked across mountains with her and ridden The Underground with her and slept in too many too small beds with her.
Homegirl can make a BAD (in a good way) road trip CD.
Today, she’s a grown up– so, that’s “Miss Sisser” to you.
Happy first day of school, Sisser. Summer’ll be here in no time and we’ll be beach bound.
Luh you. Duh.
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January 5, 2010 I rounded the corner onto the third grade hall this morning and stopped. There, sitting quietly against the wall were nineteen brown faces. Each in turn looked up and smiled at me– the kind of smile that asks, “Did you miss me? Are you glad I’m back?’
I stifled a giggle and perhaps a tear or two before I opened up my arms. In three seconds flat we were one muddled hug of third grade love.
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January 3, 2010 Deep down inside of me
there lives a little girl
who dreams of books and great masked men
and adventures to unfurl.
She walks upon clouds and swims in seas
and she dances across the world.
She shouts at mountains and laughs at
mermaids and gypsies and kings.
And late at night she whispers to me,
“It’s you! It’s you, silly girl,
who dreams these wonderful things!”
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December 17, 2009 There’s something about writing that eases my mind. Something that clears the cloudiness.
And I wonder how in the world I managed to go without it for so long.
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December 16, 2009 Because of Winn Dixie is one of my all time favorite children’s books. I reckon I like it because there’s just a hint of sadness in it and a little girl who misses her mom. I can relate to that.
Then, there’s her daddy, The Preacher, that gives her a list of ten things she might want to know about the mother she had once- before she ran away. And that list well, it stops my heart every single time.
I asked my students to write a list of ten things that they might want the world to know about them. Of course, they were precious and more than hysterical.
My list wasn’t exactly like the ones some of my angels wrote, but I jotted one down just the same. So, here it is. My list of ten things.
What’s on your list?
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August 27, 2009 The summer I was fifteen I worked as a lifeguard at our small city pool. I wanted a tan and the chance to flirt with boys that were older than me and played on the football team. The money was average at best, but it allowed me to get my driver’s license early and go to Mamaw’s for lunch everyday. So, I put that red bathing suit on and gave up around 57 layers of my nose to the sun that year and the ten or so after it.
The truth is, I loved it. I loved the way scrunching up my cheeks felt when they had too much sun on them and the white color that my eyebrows turned. I loved the T-shaped tan line across my back, the high ponytail, and the smell of chlorine that stuck to my skin. I loved the kids that thought we were famous and the ones that spent more time on the side of the pool than in the water. Most of all, I loved kicking off my worn flip flops at the door of the guard shack and walking barefoot on the deck.
I’d leave those shoes there and stroll around the pool before all the chaos started. The concrete was warm and heated me from my toes up and I’d close my eyes and breathe it in. Chlorine and concrete and Coppertone.
Those were the best few moments in my day.
I haven’t been in a red bathing suit since the summer a student told me, “Ew, Miss. Teachers ain’t s’posed to wear no fwimsuits” but today as I watched a playground full of children at recess in Mississippi, I took off my worn flip flops. I stood on the sun-baked concrete, closed my eyes, and breathed it in.
Children and concrete and coming home.
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August 25, 2009 Sitting next to Kevin at lunch:
“Ms. Edgar, so this milk come from a chocolate cow or what?”
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