I woke up, pre-dawn beneath my warm comforter—week 5, day 1, already mentally stumbling through the now-familiar getting-ready-for-work routine: rummaging through leftovers in the fridge, bypassing my jeans drawer in route to the career clothes, and ticking off the list of things I need to throw in my bag.
However, before I even left the warmth of my covers, I discovered that I was also beneath a blanket of a different kind. Although this second layer was a frigid sheet of icy snow, it turned out to be no less comforting than my toasty bedspread.
I can’t think of anything more nourishing to my spirit than an unexpected day off. Right smack at the mid-point of my 10-week teaching experience, a few hours of unexpected downtime is truly a gift. My artistic spirit requires a lot of time to process, reflect, think, and distill. If I don’t get enough of it, I start feeling a bit robotic. Even though my need for non-structured time is admittedly excessive—I’m not remotely employable, in the traditional sense of the word—I still don’t think I have the market cornered on the desire for occasional solitude. Everyone needs time just to be.
So here’s to snow days, and rain delays, and other deviations from the norm. Here’s to little pockets of time to think about where we’ve been and where we’re heading--and to little detours that enrich the journey.