Falling

Friends, or friend as it may be.

This is the day before kids come. The anticipation is high and almost tangible in my school. The teachers are semi-frantically arranging and organizing, very annoyed at the mandatory meetings that come with the beginning of school.

I was finishing my decorating. It was clear that over the weekend, when I went in, that I needed specific stuff to hang various posters and items I wanted to display to make the space my own. I had opened the doors to air out my room and to welcome anyone passing to come in and meet the new staff member.

I have the cutest poster of Winnie the Pooh...and Piglet. It deserved a place of honor above my white wipe board. I couldn't quite reach it standing on a chair. I push a nice brown sturdy table up to the wipe board and used the chair to mount it, poster in hand, sticky side out. I was shocked that I felt that darn table give underneath me. Even though I am more rotund than most and have a few items break under my weight, I really didn't think that could be the case this time. So backwards I went flying, poster in hand. All I could think about was not ruining the poster. I don't quite know how I landed, but I do know my legs were over my head for a brief moment. I popped up pretty quick and even with the shock of the situation I knew I wasn't hurt.

The schools in California are open campuses and my room faces a very popular courtyard. A group of teachers were standing there chatting with each other in clear shot of my gymnastic like antics. They all come running to see if I was OK. The only thing hurt was my pride.

I was wearing a skirt and I'm sure they all know that I wore pink polka dotted panties to the first day of school.

PS...a leg on the table was shorter than the others...thus my fall. Thank God I didn't break it.

Serenade

Hello my friends, or my friends as it may be.

The first day of school, and as always it is overwhelming. It never is what you expect, and rolling with the punches until you get the hang of it is normal. I'm pretty laid back about it at this juncture.

So poking around my room, seeing what there was to see and how I can make it my own...I rolled up my sleeves and jumped in.

Someone came to my door, and I opened the locked door to a very surprised lady. I introduced myself and discovered M would be my assistant.

She was gregarious at the instant and very welcoming. She stood at least 5 inches taller than me, almost willowy with a undercurrent of athleticism. Her long greying hair indicating that she was at least in her 50's but her spirit was young. She was very positive about everything and I really appreciated all that she shared with me. She was inquisitive without being pushy and answered my questions openly and honestly. She didn't pull any punches and I was glad that she was there. She was meeting the SLP who had been there the previous year to determine what materials would go and what would stay. She assured me I would love the old SLP, and was correct.

When L arrived she was open also and made me aware of the situation I have fallen into. Not perfect but doable I believe. She was very giving and let me know I could contact her if I had any questions. The kindness in her eyes was sincere.

The ladies stayed and spoke with me about a number of things. Very open and nice, as they cleared my space of all sorts of useful stuff. The need for me to purchase things was made clear, but again was to be expected.

As I was leaving, I heard a holler from a parked car, and noticed their conversation had taken them to the parking lot. They asked me to join them for a drink, and I readily accepted. They were going to a local Mexican restaurant on the water, and a Margarita sounded ideal.

So we went to a hole in the wall that was enchanting. On the back wall it was filled with photos of the proprietors and their families in various events. There was a solo guitarist that was serenading tables. My new found friend was absolutely gleeful and waved him over from a table he had just finished with.

He was an older gentleman and asked for requests. M not only knew what to request but sang the chorus with him, her eyes shut in pleasure and shoulders moving back and forth to the rhythm. She was glorious and so was he. Her pleasure in his music prompted him to ask for another request and she granted it with a grasp on life that was a delight to behold. She interpreted the song for us in English, and it spoke of the romantic asking God to tell his loved one how much he adored her. She sang with him and he flirted with all of us catching our eyes and giving a lopsided romeo smile as he sang. She had captured him and he stayed with us for a while. I must have been beaming, the ocean the music the good company. He commented on my smile and it was lovely.

When he left us for another table, she said the Spanish knew romance and how to write a love song. I commented impulsively that I hoped she married a romantic man. It seemed right to me that she be cherished and humored for her absolute pleasure. She let me know graciously that her husband had died 5 years previously. That she was dating a very nice man, but that her husband had been very romantic. The conversation spun around what was romantic and it was lovely sharing and chatting.

The guitar wielding Romeo came back with a song for us, and called me a California girl. We applauded him and he charmed us, as we filled our bellies with the cool slush of Margarita.

I wanted to ask M if her pleasure in life was new found or if she had always been a sensuous lover of life. She had mentioned earlier in the day that her surgery went well and explained that she had a brain tumor on Brocas area, ironically the language center. She joked that she knew plenty of SLP's to go to if the surgeon had not been so successful. I felt that one ill timed question was enough for the evening, and realized that I knew the answer.

She appreciated life and lived a good one. This was not a newly awakened soul, stirred by the fear of death. This was someone who took pleasure in life, and attracted people like a moth to a flame, to view the exquisite pleasure.

I think this will make for an interesting year.