It took me the whole school year of arriving at either 7am or 8am to realize there’s a bus that will get me here right at 7:20.
Now I’m sitting on one of my tables like I tell my Brat not to do, taking a look at things before I spend this hour organizing and storing. I now realize why I’ve been putting off thinking about this year; it is partly that it’d get messy with the year still in progress, but mostly it’s because I don’t really want to do it anyway. I didn’t realize I was this reluctant to get into the details of how and why this year unraveled and finally put itself back together again. I’m glad I planned a week of pure reflection when it was April and that’s all I wanted to do, or else I’d probably jump stupidly from Deduction to relaxing to planning next year.
My thoughts are in those plans for next year, my thoughts are in Houston with our new corps and with institute staff, my thoughts are in the summer wondering what my kids are doing—but my thoughts are not here in this bare, mint-green, used-up room. Seeing it like this reminds me of how it looked in August, and thinking of all the potential I saw in it is making my gut tighten.