Eyes open for feathered friends
I drove back from Fayetteville today. It was sad to leave my Grandma and Aunt Merry after such a short while, but I'm excited to get back into my classroom. Merry's roommate Jean's daughter Stacie (did you get all that?) is a first grade teacher, and she helped me pick out supplies at the teacher store (I was like a kid in a candy shop). She gave me lots of advice and let me look at her teaching books. Grandma and I played Upwards and she gave me stickers and books and a tape recorder and a tote bag. Her new house is lovely. My family (and all of its extensions) are fantastic.
As I drove southeast towards the Delta, the land flattened out. I thought I would be sad to leave the Ozarks, because I'm much more accustomed to hilly territory, but I wasn't. When I got on Rt. 49, and the fields of the Delta were spread out in every direction as far as I could see, and the sky opened up around me (the sky is around out here, not just above), I got this wave of happiness. This is my new home, and it's gorgeous, I thought. Not Ithaca gorgeous/gorges--it's a less spectacular vista--it's simple and... big... And as I was thinking about just how nice it looked, and how things were going well, a bird swooped across the road in front of my car, slammed into the grill, and burst. Blood and feathers spattered my windshield.
I felt awful. I cried. And then I felt guilty for indulging in my own sadness when I was so much better off than the bird. I drove the rest of the way slowing down for birds near the road and thinking that even when things are going really well, there will always be something that you don't expect that flies in your face or explodes in your grill and brings you back down to reality. I stopped at a do-it-yourself carwash in Clarksdale and super-sprayed the rest of the carcass off my car. Poor bird...
Tomorrow I go back in to school, to try and clear the remaining junk out of my classroom, laminate everything, and hang some things up. Saturday I begin new teacher orientation. Sunday I paint my room.
As I drove southeast towards the Delta, the land flattened out. I thought I would be sad to leave the Ozarks, because I'm much more accustomed to hilly territory, but I wasn't. When I got on Rt. 49, and the fields of the Delta were spread out in every direction as far as I could see, and the sky opened up around me (the sky is around out here, not just above), I got this wave of happiness. This is my new home, and it's gorgeous, I thought. Not Ithaca gorgeous/gorges--it's a less spectacular vista--it's simple and... big... And as I was thinking about just how nice it looked, and how things were going well, a bird swooped across the road in front of my car, slammed into the grill, and burst. Blood and feathers spattered my windshield.
I felt awful. I cried. And then I felt guilty for indulging in my own sadness when I was so much better off than the bird. I drove the rest of the way slowing down for birds near the road and thinking that even when things are going really well, there will always be something that you don't expect that flies in your face or explodes in your grill and brings you back down to reality. I stopped at a do-it-yourself carwash in Clarksdale and super-sprayed the rest of the carcass off my car. Poor bird...
Tomorrow I go back in to school, to try and clear the remaining junk out of my classroom, laminate everything, and hang some things up. Saturday I begin new teacher orientation. Sunday I paint my room.
posted by Jessica at 4:31 PM
1 Comments:
:-O
Post a Comment
<< Home