I went to school, thinking that I did not want to be home alone. Students had early dismissal and a basketball game today. There would not be much time for teaching.
I regretted my choice before I got there. Things were accomplished, but not as much as I wanted. I did not have the willpower to keep myself busy.
My mom sent me a text to say she was thinking of me. Those who know her will understand the level of achievement that was reached for this occasion. She used it to tell me that she loved me. It was the first of several texts sent to me today by my family.
The secretary asked how I was doing when I went to pick up a package – a new hooded sweatshirt. The one you bought me is still my favorite, but I’ve worn it enough for it to not be the nicest thing to wear to school. Its edges are frayed and scruffy. It suits me, but perhaps not my profession. I gave her an honest answer and thanked her for asking.
My principal checked in on me after the students had gone home for the day. I was watching mandatory training videos alone in a dark room, most of my computers covered and pushed over to the side. Somehow I still managed to make the room look worse the more I organized it. He asked how I was. I answered honestly. He asked if there was anything he could do. I answered honestly again, and he left.
It rained. There was thunder and lightning as large drops splattered against my classroom windows. I was afraid that my car – your car – would be flooded when I went home, but this time the interior was still dry. I will have the time to get it fixed next week, when school has let out for the summer.
I went to our favorite restaurant. We went there on our second date. (For our first date, we cooked dinner together. It’s a memory I hold dear.) I ordered mozzarella sticks and a burger. It’s what you usually ordered. (I confess that I did not order the burger plain, as you always did.)
The waitress asked several times if everything was OK. I did not answer honestly.
I came home and held our cat, who tolerated me to the best of his ability.
I replied to the last of the texts and other messages. I checked the donation total to the NephCure foundation. ($265!)
I began to write this. The photo I intended to use was of the mozzarella sticks from dinner, an item you never failed to order. Instead, I looked through old photos and dredged up old memories.
I did not cry today.
I miss you.