A Bowl of Cherries

We went to the store today to stock our cupboards and cherries were on sale for $6.99 a pound. I love cherries. I used to sit in my babysitter's cherry tree and eat them until my belly ached. Ann saw me eyeing them and said, "We have a cherry tree at home, love." So I passed on the cherries.

When we got home, I prepared Oaxaca Tacos from Cafe Flora's cookbook (thanks mom!) and lost all track of the cherries. Ann was outside working in the yard (though we don't really have one, but still, she's good at putzing when it comes to yardwork). Just as I was assembling the tacos, Ann walked in with this bowl...



This is so like her. There are times when I swear the girl never hears what I'm saying and then other times when I feel like she's taking detailed notes. This was such a time.

She balances me. I can get my knickers in a wad, as I did today, feeling overwhelmed by all there is to do. I think I'm still in teacher mode because when I woke up today I felt rushed, always watching the clock to see how much time had passed, how much I'd gotten done in the hour. At one point Ann said, "Hey, aren't you on vacation?" Only then did I sneak upstairs for a 20 minute nap.

Still, it's hard to unwind from the year, to get into the rhythm of unscheduled days, of not paying attention to the time, of letting go the responsibility of 22 little lives.

Case in point, I'm still having school dreams. Not dreams about school, per se, but dreams where I know I have to go to work and can't get my body out of bed, or can't find my underwear, or can't find any clothes. Dreams where I walk so slowly I know I'll be hours late for work, worried out of my mind that the kids will be alone, that they'll tear the classroom apart. And when I finally get there, it's almost the end of the day and I'm naked and angry and paralyzed.

Last night I dreamt awful things about my students. They were hurt and I couldn't rescue them. They were kidnapped when I was responsible for them. They were poisoned by cookies I'd fed them.

These are dreams I usually have at the beginning of the year when the anxiety of getting back into the teaching groove sends electric impulses throughout my veins. I've never had dreams like this at the end of the year.

"Aren't you on vacation?"

Today, it appeared that I was not.

Then, at the end of the day, when I felt like I hadn't made a dent in my list of chores and was busily cleaning the toilets, mopping the floors, and sweeping under the furniture Ann says, "We really got a lot done today!"

I'm thinking, "We did?" But that's the balance part -- I look at what's left on the list; she looks at what gets crossed off.

I put away my dust rag and mop and marveled at all we'd accomplished.

Today, life is a bowl of cherries (I'll try not to think about all the ones that are still on the tree!).

Perhaps the worry dreams will take a vacation, too!