An Adventure on Ice!
“On these magic shores children at play are for ever beaching their coracles. We too have been there; we can still hear the sound of the surf, though we shall land no more.”
I am not the first person you loved.
You are not the first person I looked at
with a mouthful of forevers. We
have both known loss like the sharp edges
of a knife. We have both lived with lips
more scar tissue than skin. Our love came
unannounced in the middle of the night.
Our love came when we’d given up
on asking love to come. I think
that has to be part
of its miracle.
This is how we heal.
I will kiss you like forgiveness. You
will hold me like I’m hope. Our arms
will bandage and we will press promises
between us like flowers in a book.
I will write sonnets to the salt of sweat
on your skin. I will write novels to the scar
of your nose. I will write a dictionary
of all the words I have used trying
to describe the way it feels to have finally,
finally found you.
And I will not be afraid
of your scars.
I know sometimes
it’s still hard to let me see you
in all your cracked perfection,
but please know:
whether it’s the days you burn
more brilliant than the sun
or the nights you collapse into my lap
your body broken into a thousand questions,
you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
I will love you when you are a still day.
I will love you when you are a hurricane.
I bought this for myself as a tax-return treat. Watched a couple episodes today with the boys. One of the few revisits to childhood that does NOT end in disappointment.
If they respect you, respect them. If they disrespect you, still respect them. Do not allow the actions of others to decrease your good manners, because you represent yourself, not others.
Tonight at our Board of Education meeting the first draft of next year’s budget was released. We’ve been in dire straits for the past four years. This year we’re facing a $2 million budget gap, and after the cuts that have been made over each of the past four years, we’re slicing awfully close to the bone now.
My department started out with nine teachers serving 1200 students K-12. Three years ago we were cut back to 7.6, where we’ve been since that time. Tonight it was proposed that we be cut a further 1.7 positions, bringing us down to 5.9.
My own job is safe for now—I’m high enough on the seniority list to last another year or two—but the nature of music education in our school district is about to be forever changed. My best friend is set to lose his job completely. I’ll be absorbing all of his classes in addition to what I’m currently doing. Band and orchestra at the elementary level will be cut completely.
I’m put in mind of Paul Simon’s American Tune:
I don’t know a soul who’s not been battered,
I don’t have a friend who feels at ease.
I don’t know a dream that’s not been shattered,
Or driven to its knees.
Oh, but it’s all right, it’s all right,
For lived so well so long.
Still, when I think of the road
We’re traveling on,
I wonder what went wrong.