When I went on hiatus (March 14), I mentioned some projects I needed to focus on this spring.
I got married.
We still aren’t quite living in the same house all the time, but we’ve made good progress toward that. We should get there by the fall–which is when we need to, because of…
I retired from education.
It’s been a good, long run (31.5 years). (This newspaper article is from the mid-90’s. That’s a typical class size now.) It doesn’t feel at all the way I thought it would. There’s so much to say about both projects, I can’t really say anything. Not yet, anyway.
I’m open to doing other work, and the universe keeps putting job openings in my path that are enticing, but I haven’t applied for any. I’m making myself take a real break from employment first. I got my first job at 15, and other than the first few weeks of my freshman year of college, I’ve never been without one since. Even when I was on bedrest with my twins, I still did freelance editing gigs.
It all feels weird and uncomfortable and sad and strange and exciting. Sort of like being a teen-ager, but with a whole lot more insight and knowledge–about time, love, and myself.
I think I’m ready to start writing here again. Words have been knocking at the door of my head for a little while now, and I think there’s enough space cleared that I can begin to let them in.
At the end of my last post, I left you with an image of my so-late-to-bud vine I almost feared it was dead:
Here’s how it looked just a week ago:
Everything blooms when it’s meant to, given the right conditions.