Mrs. LePage- Lobster Dinners

I was famished. The kind of hungry that only comes from swimming in the ocean and building sandcastles all day long. I struggled up the beach, that one stubborn corner of my towel making a snake trail behind me. The white plastic handle of my bright blue pail flexed with the weight of my treasures: perfect shells, special stones, maybe even a feather. My mom would help me spread my damp towel over the back seat of the car. Windows rolled down, the wind snarled my frizzy curls as we drove to the tiny, gray shack. The wheels crunched over the seashell parking lot, and we parked with the other cars that were always coming and going. I waited in the car with Dad while Mom went in. Soon she came out holding what looked like a soup can for giants. 

A few minutes more driving, and we pulled up to my grandparents’ tiny trailer. As I tumbled out of the car, Grammie and Grampa bustled out with warm hugs for all. They helped me spread my towel out on the picnic table bench so I wouldn’t get splinters. The camp stove hissed as Grampa lit it, and the huge can clanked onto the grate. I swung my sand-caked flip-flops and traced the ugly, bright flowers on the plastic tablecloth. 

“Is it ready yet?”

Sometimes, in order to distract me, we’d play games. My grandfather’s patient hands remade the fan of slippery cards each turn. Once in a while he’d put one in the front and tap it. When I looked at him, I’d get a tiny wink. 

“Grammie, do you have any 7’s?”

“How did you know?”

Every 100 hours or so, my dad or Grampa checked the can. Finally, finally, finally he would say, “I think it’s ready.”

Paper plates and mountains of napkins, bowls of broth and melted butter, nutcrackers, salt & pepper all appeared on the table. Out they’d scoop piles of steamers, potatoes, corn on the cob and those bright red, fabulous lobsters. I wrestled with that slippery nutcracker and had butter smears on my chin. The conversation settled down to “Here, try this”,  “Let me help you with that shell” and “Mmmm’s.”  And we feasted. We feasted on lobsters and steamers and togetherness and family stories and helping each other and love.

There’s nothing wrong with white tablecloth, suit and tie lobster dinner. But, for me, it will never be as wonderful as the damp bathing suit, sandy feet kind.

Mrs. Burgess: Dementia

Every night I come to visit you, in this place others

call your home, but I call it your hospital… 

Most nights you lay still in bed with your eyes closed. I color you pictures, sing you songs and feed you dinner. I call your name, hold your hand and talk about my day. You continue to lay still with your eyes closed.

 Some nights you open your eyes and look off into space. I try to vision what you're thinking about… always hoping you are thinking of me, and always hoping you know I am there with you. 

On rare nights, you open your eyes and make eye contact with me. Your eyes tear up and you smile. You continue to lay still and silent, but in these moments my heart is happy. You know who I am and I know you love me. These are the nights that make it all worth it. 

Mrs. Fluckiger- The Rough Draft

 Sounds and Questions- (An alternative version of Notice/ Wonder)  

Maybe…     Thoughts in Nature   or…   A Weekend Hike  boring…

Reasons Not to Hike Alone  not wrong… A Conversation with Myself  umm…   

  Why did I sign up for this?  (‘Cause writing is eeeeeasy…not)

humph. … TITLE HERE  (sigh…)

Crunch. (Onomatopoeia as a hook? Check!)

Gray light filters through the bare branches of the trees overhead.

I press my foot down again- harder

Crunch. Crack!

Why is it so satisfying to break ice? (you weirdo)

I move on down the path

It is worn down to the rocks below in places, but in a welcoming way- not a cold, slippery way. 

It is just mine for now, but I can tell others have been here before me

Why is that disappointing? (see? weird)

I can hear the creaking of tree trunks as they bend to the will of the gusting wind

Bend but don’t break (yep.)

As I hike along through these woods, alone with my thoughts, I appreciate the peace and wonder I feel-

briefly.

Between checking my watch to see how many miles I’ve gone (Why does that matter?!?) and playing with the nifty compass feature to see how good my sense of direction is (it’s pretty good) I get little waves of existential joy. 

Why is it that when I’m alone, in the middle of nowhere, I feel so connected?

Crunch.

 

Ooh, more ice! (yay!)

Mrs. Durst- The Gift of Time

The Monday before the holiday break. 

The wind howls and the rain comes down.

Why isn't it snowing to have the day off? So much to do before the break.

A call comes in, an hour later than usual. Ok, we have a 2-hour delay!

I get a batch of cookies baked.

An hour later another call from Simsbury Public Schools.

Could it be possible?!!

"Due to the weather and power outages,

school will be canceled today- December 18, 2023.

Enjoy the day and stay safe."

I jumped up and down, clapped, and yelled "Yayyy!"

Then I baked another batch of cookies.

What a wonderful gift. The unexpected gift of time.

Mrs. Napierski: An Unexpected Desire

     

Tick-Tock, HSSSSS, Crackle; the white noise of calm, and “silence” nestled in around me as I looked out the window. Curled tightly in a Sherpa blanket with a cup of warm tea in my hands as the trees swayed to and fro, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of longing. What is missing? I asked myself. 

For weeks I had been excitedly waiting for a moment of peace and serenity. I had clung to the hope of relaxing and thinking about absolutely nothing. I longed for this, but it wasn’t at all what I had thought it would be. Suddenly, I became confused and almost angry. The stresses of life and work combined had been making it very difficult to keep a positive attitude and smile every day, and all I thought I wanted and needed was a break. However, when my break came, it was nothing like what I expected. 

Slightly frustrated, I got up, poured the remnants of my tea down the sink, and decided to get ready for Christmas Eve dinner early. I turned on some classic Frank Sinatra Christmas songs, warmed up my curling iron, and began the process of “putting on my face.” Singing along with the classics began to cheer me up as I attempted to harmonize with Ol’ Blue Eyes. About an hour later, my hair was curled and my face was on; my husband was patiently waiting for me (as he always will).

The car ride to my in-laws' house was normal, but it was what happened that night that inspired me and gave me a whole new perspective. This was the first time I had spent Christmas with my in-laws, and I wasn’t sure what to expect; mind you, I have spent many normal weekends and holidays with them before and have always had the time of my life (my in-laws are wonderful)! For some reason, this being the first Christmas with them made me slightly nervous.

Of course, as soon as the night began to pick up momentum, I was totally fine, and I found myself having a grand old time. There was laughter. There was joy, and there were games being played and jokes being told. In the typical sense of the word, there was not a bit of peace to be had, yet I found myself more content and with less on my mind than ever before. In the loudness, craziness, and amazing chaos, I had found joy, rest, and relaxation. 

This winter break made me realize that my unexpected desire for the rest of the school year is loudness, fun, joy, and amazing chaos so that I can find “peace” in the workplace. They say that students are learning best when they are playing and having conversation; sometimes, a loud classroom is a learning classroom. I cannot wait for amazing chaos to ensue! Happy New Year!

Ms. Champagne- Canis Grata

 

When your kid is less than a year old, there are just some places you can’t take them. A loud concert or fine restaurant springs to mind. 

When your kid has 4 legs, there are just some places you can’t take them. Stores. Schools. Ski lifts. Stadiums. Soccer fields. A hundred other venues spring to mind.

As a mom to a 7-month, 4-legged kid, almost everywhere I go is on the canis non grata list, which is why I’m beyond grateful for a local school that gets it right. When I take my kid to this school, we are greeted by an open gate, a Ziploc full of doggy bags, and a sign that reads: 

PLEASE BE A GOOD NEIGHBOR

CLEAN UP AFTER YOUR DOG

Every time I walk past this sign (with a pocketful of my own doggy bags), I smile. I smile because here my kid gets to run and roam like all of the other kids. Here she can follow her instincts, chase, and be chased. I smile because here she can explore, share, listen, make friends, and care for others. 

I smile remembering how she once showed love to a 2 legged who had fallen off his swing. I smile some more thinking of how this type of encounter might help some 2 leggeds to trust 4 leggeds. 

I smile at my kid, and she smiles back at me because she’s happy here. Now. Being herself. Being with me. Being with everyone. Being a good neighbor. 

Mrs. Panyard- Pure Joy in the Snow

 

In the beautiful and serene landscape, a playful black lab named Tashmoo excitedly bounded through and dove into the light and fluffy untouched foot of snow.  Her black fur stood out against the white canvas as she continued to leap, twirl, and roll in the cold crisp air.  Her paws left imprints in the soft snow, creating a playful trail of tracks. 

Tashmoo’s excitement was contagious, attracting the attention of a neighbor's dog who couldn’t resist joining this spirited pup in her snowy escapades.  Laughter echoed from the owners as they watched these pups play freely in the snow; running, jumping, diving and chasing each other until they could run no more.  At last, falling into the snow to take a break and cool down.  

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm orange glow on the snow-covered ground and trees, Tashmoo and her neighbor pal panted happily.  Owners leashed their pups, patting their fur as if to acknowledge their fun. The pups wagged their tails in what seemed like an expression of gratitude for the impromptu playtime. Humans and pups bid a farewell and headed for home, leaving behind the tapestry of paw prints and joyful imprints in the snow.