A Mix

Yesterday was a blender full of:

good & bad, gentle & prickly, soft & unyielding, connection & anythingbut

I had all my students in our tiny kitchen: eight bodies wanting activity, wanting participation, some bold, ready to measure, pour, whisk, handing off only when directed to those less so, but fingers still antsy for bowl or contents. Fingers chastised by others, others with stronger notions of propriety, mini-firestarters of hot emotion. Hot emotion in a very small, sardine-packed space. Multitasking the recipe and tricky method times 3, 1 of me, 8 of them, student A, the one I saw, the one continuously wrong place/wrong time, he not able to immerse in the project, me not able to recognize his need.

Students gone, alone in the kitchen with last bits of cleanup and bin-packing, not having to rush to our usual next stop, my friend appears. Even with my tired focus now torn, I get counters wiped and containers loaded, into the elevator and outside. We find a sunny bench while Junior plays and her child finishes class. We get to spend a few hours, the boys playing, we picking up where leaving off in March. Always rich and knowing, with acceptance and approval, each happy for the other, giving yet another glimpse into what life is like through our eyes.

Driving home in a hot car, on another irregularly warm May afternoon, traffic is burdensome from a self-imposed schedule deadline. Though my routine favors flow over fixed time, the movie starts at 6:45, Spouse needs to finish his arduous commute, dinner made then eaten, Pup given some active time outside, all of us back into the still-too-warm vehicle for another 20 minute drive. We don’t do movie theaters often, finding our schedules fit better with Instant Watch or our DVD subscription. Junior more readily absorbs movies, catching the finer points of plot and character, when, after the initial viewing, he can “watch his favorite parts” again and again. The popcorn was good, the movie fun, though Spouse visibly tired after the go!go!go! of getting there, Junior didn’t always know why the audience laughed when they did, and the inexpensive seats weren’t very comfortable. Not having the usual time to unwind from and process the unpleasant parts of the day, I was snappish during the ride home.

Back in our quite warm house, apologies and hugs accepted, we each retreated, for the little while that remained, to our small oases of normal. I was tired. I tidied a bit. I helped Spouse assemble ingredients and equipment for his Pancake Thursday. I gathered strewn clothing for tomorrow’s laundry. The tired brought forward my unhappy feelings about the class. Tired brings out negative. I know every day won’t always be fulfilling. Every day won’t always be amazing. Every day, even though I want to connect, I want to give space for personalities, I want to be a Zen Baking Instructor, every day won’t always be that. I bounced some words off Spouse, not looking for resolution, just needing to say them aloud. Never disregarding me, he said a few in return. Just a few. Sleep was next.

After another night of action-packed dreaming, obscure, tangential stories drawing from all points of my life, I awoke far too early this morning by our resident, Neighborhood Watch Robin chirping his or her soul out. I closed the window, increased the fan speed, and mercifully fell back to sleep. I am grateful for sleep. Grateful for our stuff-strewn house, the dishwasher full of clean dishes, the clean water that dutifully emerges from the tap each day. I am most grateful for each day. Grateful that mercy starts over, begins again, each and every morning.

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7 thoughts on “A Mix

  1. Oh dear sister you have done it again. This is so beautifully shared. I walked with you through the day and felt like I was really with you. I love you. I love your writing. Thank you again for sharing.

  2. Lisa, loved hearing how the rest of your day went! Yes, MERCY! So enjoyed seeing you! Keep writing, I love reading these!

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