In contrast

Trying to remember what it felt like to lie still against the rock, to turn my face towards the sun, to be wholly in the moment, like I was in this picture with Bean scampering up and down the rock beside me. The air was cool and sweet with the smell of autumn: wood smoke, drying grass, the spicy scent of maple leaves and concord grapes, and the musky smell of manure being spread on the fields.

In contrast, I spent today indoors, watching the sun move across the square diorama of my window, sending long rectangles of bright and shade onto the carpet and tables and the tousled heads of kids. It was a PMSy, moody day with near-tears moments and and no-reason exhaustion by the end. Sometimes the sheer volume of 20 little kids is enough to drive me up a wall. My head reverberates and I feel utterly fragmented. Then I realize I haven’t eaten in hours. On days like today I catch myself longing to be teaching college students—longing to be that me I’ll be in five or six years from now.