Monday, February 16, 2009
"Tell them the horizon is an imaginary line that recedes as you approach it."
Dude. I live a charmed life sometimes. OK all the time. I mean life is heavy and hard for everyone, but I seem to find sparkle most everywhere I look and I am so thankful. And I am so humbled.
I was cleaning out our makeshift office (such a laugh- Little Alouette operates out of a doorless playroom with red fabric strung over cheap ass vinyl replacement windows- it is next on the list) and found a brown paper bag full of envelopes. I held them in my arms and sat down on the floor and my shoulders curled into a kinda self hug as I realized what I was holding. In May 2007 I told my students to write a letter to themselves. I gave them no other directive than this. I told them that I would take them home with me and a year or so later I would mail them out and they could see how things have changed possibly. I was in one of those sappy moments of reminiscence before I even quit my job...
I knew I was leaving that summer and all around me were ghosts and memories and I wasn't so sure that I was doing the right thing by leaving my students.
I wasn't sure that I should be so reckless and go be a writer and start a small business when the news told me to hold fast to my job. I wasn't sure about much of anything except that I wanted nothing more than to be around Finn and Blaise and Joe more than I was at that moment working full time plus.
Well this week I will mail out these kinda late letters to kids who are way older than the day they wrote these with number two pencils.
They will have changed and morphed and grown and some will be almost unrecognizable to me now. Some will have moved away and some will never get their letters. But still I am kissing each one before I post it. I am telling the postman to carry them with kid gloves back to the children who helped me open my heart. Back to the neighborhood where I cut my mama teeth. Back to the place I will always belong.
title post- Mona Lisa Smile 2003