Now I Get It.

Now I understand why grocery shopping was a task and not a treat for my mom. My mom works in the schools as a speech therapist. Recently, I’ve started student teaching in a special education pre-school. From  the time I hit my alarm in the morning to the time I get home, my life revolves around those little kids and all of the adults and lessons that come with. By the time I get to the school (around 8:15) I have already chugged coffee, tried to eat breakfast, and contemplated how wonderful a nap sounds. When the children arrive, my day gets flooded with legos, story books, imaginary play, and my personal favorite, sand tables and play-doh. A short break for lunch is filled with exchanging toys for more developmentally appropriate ones for the afternoon class, getting visual signs ready, preparing paperwork, and making any copies or filling out any form necessary for my seminar class wednesday nights. After those kiddies load onto a bus or into a car at the “end” of the day, it’s my job to tidy up the classroom, prepare lessons for tomorrow, and talk with my wonderful mentor teacher. It’s not the end of my day yet.

I get back home around 4:30 usually, ready for food and a nap, however, when there’s no food in the fridge and I have a packet due for my seminar class tomorrow night, neither one of those things are possible. Unless, of course, I go grocery shopping. 

I never make lists. I walk isle to isle picking up anything that seems like it might go along with anything else I have in my cart, wait in the always-too-long line (why don’t they hire some more employees instead of using those dreaded scan it yourself machines?!), pay, and drive home. Then I must unload the groceries, make dinner, eat dinner, clean up the mess I made during dinner, and then sit down only to realize I have to print off sheets to have my mentor teacher sign, start an intensive project for my seminar class, and shower.

Showering will probably be the thing that waits. Who needs personal hygiene when you’re working with 3 year olds?

Right now, it’s not even 9:30pm and I feel like my eyes are ready to close and seal up until morning. Right now, I can fully relate to my mom, passed out, mouth open, snoring on the couch at 6pm before we even ate dinner. The tiredness is real. The workload is real. My life is about to get real.

There’s no more of the downtime between classes or classes on monday and wednesday and that’s it. There’s not more coddling or holding my hand as I rush to finish projects. The procrastination I tend to love and rely on will finally bite me in the ass hard enough for me to not get a degree.

Spending everyday in a classroom these last few weeks, gaining respect from the staff around me, and taking more of a lead roll in that environment has made it set in: this is going to be me. This is me. One day, I will be the one creating the welcoming pictures and activities for the little kiddos as they walk into the open house with their parents and meet me for the first time. I will be the one coming up with disciplinary actions for kids with behavior issues. I will need to cut, print, paste, and set up all of the classroom posters and signs. It will all be me.

I always knew I was going to end up being a teacher after all this schooling, but it hasn’t been until now that I started actually picturing myself being one.

Up until now, I said, “Pfft. We need food on the table, grocery shopping is a must!”

But ya know what? Sometimes days are too long and there’s too many things to do and your eyes get too heavy to stay awake. So, sometimes, grocery shopping can wait and left overs will have to do. That’s what happens when the teaching kind of tired gets ahold of you.

On Moving

We are the dust bunnies-
-The doors that hangs a little more crooked than our friends.
She has me locked at the hinges.
We are time bombs with long tickers that have yet to be lit.
We don’t fit in cardboard boxes but we both know how much my cats love them so we bring them home anyway and unpack.
We are the balls of tape-
-The not so sticky, sticky part.
She is the packing peanut that static clings to my shirtsleeve.
We have so much space left to fill with our togetherness.
We are the new house keys on an old lanyard-
-The fresh paint on uneven walls.
She wipes me clean like windex.
We are the messing up of a freshly made bed-
-The first time your head hits the pillow moment.
She is the first shine of light through the blinds in the morning.
We are hot coffee all sugared up-
-The scrambling of eggs.
She is my favorite breakfast.
And my favorite goodnight.

About Wine

Wine is nice until it is not.
Especially when the box is empty.
We don’t bottle anything up.
We pour a cup full out of the nozzle,
Plastic bag,
Mason jar,
Chaos created by a cardboard box.
18 dollars for 5 full liters of fun,
Then we run downstairs.
Around the corner you’ll see 222,
Selling boxes of wine to minors with makeup.
It’s only a minor offense to feed wine down our throats.
I don’t choke of underage,
But my friends do.
Wine,
I tell you,
Makes a fool out of you.

Wear It Well

I wear my body like a rust freckled mailbox that has held other people’s secrets like a full journal, a finished book, but still an untold story.
I wear my ego like fake brass knuckles that will never be used,
Like shoes I believed would look good three years ago but they still sit in their original box.
I wear my stubbornness like a bullet proof vest woven from fear.
I wear my solitude like a tree that stands alone in the middle of a cornfield.
My bones are maple.
My imagination is a Red Wood.
I dance like wind-found branches.
I wear my steps like a drum.
I hold cymbals in my palms and they crash like my laugh holds the Grand Canyon in my lungs.

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Kum + Go

Maybe these people are Kum + Go.
Side of the road, South Dakota, and things didn’t seem so wrong.
I drove city to city, no reason.
I stopped in Wyoming, no idea the state I was in.
Then traveled west towards Denver, excited goosebumps on my skin.
Quick to return and quick to leave.
My van took me up the mountainside as well as it took me down.
It became my camp ground,
My home on wheels.
It took me wherever the steering wheel turned.
Eyes, tear heavy.
Heart and head, heavy sulking.
Loneliness had never felt so forced.

All

All at once, I think of them-
Best friends,
Now acquaintances.
Online meetings
And old reconnections.
I moon-stare-
Old, but lighting up.
There’s not enough of me out there.
Maybe that’s why I want to spread-
Into all of them-
The moon,
The sun,
The stars,
And the trees.
This is me,
Glistening.

Bring Me Me

Bring me solace.
Bring me comfort.
Bring me chaos.
I’ll linger in her fingertips.
I’ll rip her waves from my shore and cringe with greed.
I’ll dance around her ankles and make sure she falls.

Bring me everything I don’t need so I have a reason to scream.
Bring me open roads and closed toed shoes.
Bring me anger.
I’ll flick her in the nose.
I’ll learn to lick her melted heart like a lollipop.
I’ll finish her sentences with bad intentions.

Bring me anything.
Bring me something.
Bring me nothing.
I’ll wallow in her self-loathing.
I’ll swallow myself whole in order to see that her insides are alive.
I’ll judge the emptiness with a mountain-sized envy.

Bring me a moment.
Bring me a mile.
Bring me a wish.
I’ll treat her like a queen.
I’ll greet her with clammy palms and dimpled cheeks.
I’ll make my own knees weak so she doesn’t have to be.

Bring me me.
I’ll be happy to meet her.