Don’t wish your life away, because you’ll end up where I am, reminiscing on your childhood and wondering when you grew up in the blink of an eye.
Carrying a little purse that was completely unnecessary because it had nothing in it.
You love these little guys. Not because they are your own and you have to, but because it comes naturally. You don’t have to love them, but you do.
You wore flip flops until mid-November, which consistently confused your southern-born friends. In their world, fifty-five degrees was freezing.
The fermented grape stuff your parents used to bring out when the neighbors came over that stained everyone’s mouths red and made them laugh at the weirdest shit? Gross. The heavenly elixir that saves your life every night after work and that you turn to in good times, and in bad, in sickness and in health? Obsessed.
I don’t have these ridiculously high expectations for marriage. I’ll never go into it thinking, “I’m NEVER getting divorced. That’s not an option!” I know it’s a reality, and that no matter how well it may begin, it could happen.
Some people learned how to cook from their parents. You learned how to order chinese takeout. And that skill has served you well.
We face our problems head on, and we know how to function under messy conditions, in fact, we are superb at it.
Hugs when you’re happy. Hugs when you’re down. Hugs at the start of the school day. Hugs when an older student comes back to visit your classroom. Hugs when a student skins her knee. Hugs after a long day.