This Ancient City

Hot…cold, dry…wet, opened…closed, high…low.

The fall semester passed with a disorienting buzz. This time last year, I was in the throes of a ten-month commitment to a secondary ed assignment. I almost never woke up with the sun then - my dark groggy a.m. rituals taught me that I’m NOT a morning person. The first solar peck on the cheek wouldn’t come until 11a.m. or so. By May, I unknowingly had three simultaneous shoulder injuries that wouldn’t come to light until summer break. Burnout loomed, but thankfully it didn’t come to pass.

I laid some pre-emptive ground rules for the fall: 1) Wake up with the sun. 2) No driving to work in the dark (pre-dawn collisions are all too common) 3) Generally insist on a four day work week with reasonable last minute exceptions. It feels good to have seen these ground rules through and take added agency and ownership of my work life.

As my September weekdays filled up with more time walking the streets of the historic district, it was hard to pine for the connections I made last school year. But pine I did. Occasionally, I’d try to find out when there was an upcoming concert or theatrical production that would give me an excuse to see some familiar faces just over the county line. The sense of pride, joy and satisfaction I felt on graduation day last May - especially when my student walked across the stage under water laden skies…it was priceless and indescribable.

These days, I get to work with at least three students and the occasional faculty member. One among them loves to break the fourth wall between interpreter and classroom…cracking hilarious jokes, testing my handle of vocabulary, and even calling me out for questionable bike riding decisions witnessed off the clock (mildly embarrassing).

A fourteen week semester is a lot like a short story condensed for the sake of waning stamina and attention spans. We went from summer to autumn and endured two hurricanes within a 43 day period. What even is that? A time for substantial reflection won’t come until maybe December. Cruising altitude may have been reached for a mile or two, but it was abruptly interrupted by a descent that came too soon. These sensitivities and prolific observations of events playing out in the lives of those around me probably has much to do with my being an empath. Much like my mother before me, I don’t handle being privy to the suffering of others very well. The last three months or so were marked in part by funerals, death anniversaries, injuries, panic, and ER visits (only some of these involving me personally). I kind of need to be in the trenches with my fellow human, or establish an immediate boundary out of self preservation. A modest awareness of my own limitations has fostered many salvations.

I’m eager to embark on 2023, but not before a meaningful deep breath and a smidge of travel ; )