November has arrived, and I welcome it.
(See related post in previous Novembers. This is an unapologetic trend.)
Every year I feel a relief in this month, because the world quiets down. I find my cadence as a teacher, and the days move seamlessly. I can take a breath. I remember my place.
Sometimes at school it's astonishing to me that it takes so long for everyone to find this rhythm to life. Other times it's astonishing that it all comes together so fast. It's only been a few weeks (of reckoning moments, awkward moments, brilliant hopeful moments, tiring moments, confusing moments....etc....) with kids, and now they are my people. I know what need. They know what I mean. Relief.
Things work out, you know, in the crazy. They always somehow do. The art and craft of teaching is to trust it that way from the start.
Aside from all things school, November is peaceful because it's a pause and a breath. It's when the side of me that is the introvert is happiest. This world is so big and vibrant and alive, and I love it. But equally as much I enjoy the bare bones simplicity of what November can offer. Leafless branches against a beautifully gray sky. That's simple. In a world of options,that's comforting.
This weekend Jordan and I walked through St. Paul together, and we ignored the cold and ambled around talking about our lives. This was the moment when I mentally turned turned myself towards winter. Isn't it weird that seasons change and you have to feel it in your bones like this? For me, every time a season changes, it's suddenly there. I just know something is different.
Yesterday I knew I had to feel the cold, really feel it for a minute, in order to get it. So I left my jacket unzipped and felt the winds. And then I stopped and zipped up my coat and resumed holding hands with the person that I love. And I thought about how brilliantly good it is that the someone I am with also won't forego watching the lamp lights turn on in the park, just because it's cold.
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