Winter has started at last, and so has my life, or so it seems.
November had stretched and stretched for too long – hibernation had to end. And the child heart had to come back – the one that’s pushing colleagues in the snow, jumping over snow benches, not caring about borrowing phrases from one language to another, not caring about anything at all, in a way.
The weight of the snow is slowing me down when I’m walking, leaving me more time for a few reflections. A few dances, too, hidden under pretended slips on the coat of ice.
Winter has reminded me that I was happy. Winter has reminded me that I could choose my happiness. That I had to choose it, somehow.
What does that mean? I need to say yes to what makes my heart pump. I know I need both extremes to live; I’d already come to that conclusion earlier. Today, it meant dream through two extra hours of sleep – sip through a latte made by loving hands – stumble upon great poetry I don’t understand and love the fact that I don’t understand it – and later, go dancing in the snow, under starry and city lights.
But I’m not only saying yes to the weekends. I say yes to the purpose I’ve had for a year full-time now: My job as a French teacher, and the numerous connections revolving around it. My life is not about looking perfectly white and brilliant in front of a blackboard; It’s about giving whatever I have – knowledge, patience, empathy, encouragement – to students and see them move forward. (Even see them cut through a snow bench sometimes.)
Thanks to Sui Solitaire and her book the thing about thin for that smooth reminder. (A book review coming up on this blog!)
It may all be about jumping out from oneself and see things differently. For my part, I’ll step into the snow, where the cold bites… and brings back to life.
Maybe I was just meant to make angels. I’ll make mine, and then help a couple angels make themselves.
Let’s help each other, OK?