8.28.22
I recently spoke with a past PiA fellow, and his insights poured into me with the same force of a broken dam. This conversation has me reawakened to thoughts about self honesty, humility, storytelling, patience, and listening. And this long but truly filling conversation has insipired me to write about what brings me joy (but written in a slower, and sincerely cared for time) which is not fully my style. But I'm hoping it will cast some new light on the moments I may, or may not, take for granted. I see this to be another one of my "add as I go" pages so apologies if it doesn't flow so smoothly or if you don't get what's going on, whoops!
8.31.22: There's a proud figure atop the roof sitting lonely among the rice fields. The proud figure gazes out--an out that cannot be seen by anyone but him--and boasts his feathered chest of white. My eyes immediately, magnetically, latches on the proud figure and while my feet pedal forward my eyes stay attached, trying to draw out, to eternity, the decreasing seconds of keeping him in my frame. In the final glance I see my proud figure disappear into a proud dot, and that is when my eyes open to what his chest casts over--the rice fields that have been painted into a gentle sea of green nodding to Wind's long and shapeless breaths.
8.28.22: Slowly drawing the curtains I call my eyes, the sun greets me as a sliver of orange residing next to my hanging bag. A 5, a 3, and a 0 come into vision and pulls me out to begin the day, leaving the sheets to ease out of my spaghettified body stamp.
8.28.22: Manki and I simultaneously turned our heads. And exchanged a look. When Molly told Issa. "Thank you for everything. For loving me while I was me." And then came the stream of "AAAAAAHHs" to rattle the unfinished and now tepid coffee sitting next to the screen.
8.24.22: I've come to realize that one of the purest forms of acceptance is when you suddenly find a small body in your lap. They chose YOU as the perfect chair in which to nestle and enjoy the story being read to them. The teacher's voice is far in the distance as I take in the loveliness behind being able to do something for someone without doing anything but being me.
10.7.22: After chasing the moon on my evening run, I (literally) ran into one of my favorite people in the world, the one and only manki. And talking, laughing, then getting completely SHADED by one of my former second graders (his car passed and he obviously didn't want to interact with us because his car window was going up until we made eye contact and too late...he had to wave. But holy cow the wave was the slowest, most unenthusiastic with a face that was just the most disappointed deer in the headlights I had ever seen) at the corner of the thin street with fall winds brushing our skin...all I can say is that's a moment I want to keep forever.
10.7.22: Shun-chan is wonderful. He saw me, looked me dead straight in the eye and declared the word I taught him last week:
SUNNYYYFLOWER!
Yes, he meant to say sunflower, but alas. Sunnyflower it is.
10.7.22: Another Shun-chan story. I played "catch the tail" with my oda five year olds today, and I decided I'd bring my a-game because why not. So after a bit, it was a me vs Shun-chan showdown in the final round. And I haven't laughed as hard as I did when this five year old ran straight at me in Naruto form, then swarm-attacked me in circle form (still fixed in naruto form) while staring me straight in the eyes--eyes as focused as a hawk targeting its prey and as round as Dobby the House-elf's eyes--to get my tail. Of course, I just had to easily side step a bit, but his intentsity just crippled me in laughter that after 2-3 minutes of his insane offense, I was bent over, cry-laughing, a few feet away from Shun-chan victorious with tail in hand. Kids, man, kids.
