August 28 -- School was canceled for this Monday because of Irene so I spent today working on my lesson plans and getting a little more organized for this new job of mine which now, officially, starts on Tuesday. I am slowly gaining a foothold on an overall theme for my classes, an umbrella statement that gives me a broad and realistic goal for designing my lessons. For example, if my job were a fitness instructor, my goal would be to help clients live healthy lives. As an English teacher, my goal is to teach students about writer's purpose. This applies to both reading and writing and, in the process, helps me reach my other goal -- to help students learn about themselves in the process. Seeing as there was no set curriculum for me to use, defining this purpose is a great step for me.
Anyway, as I sat at my desk plugging away at the course material, I realized that I was missing Luke. A lot. I just felt this gaping hole, like the feeling you had when you were six years old and you lost a tooth and your tongue just kept going to the empty spot. And as your tongue slipped into the crevice it felt totally foreign and a little unsettling to have nothing there where there was once a solid tooth. But the good news was that even though you missed the tooth, you knew that a new one, a bigger one, was growing in. That's kind of how I was feeling. I would turn in my chair to ask Luke a question and realize that he wasn't home. And I would remind myself that he was doing something great, something exciting and new and totally wonderful. But it still hurt. I miss him.
For some reason, whenever I went through this thought process, I kept thinking about my friend Liz (see Feb 23rd blog entry) who, the last time we spoke, was dating some Indian guy. I decided to give her a call. When I reached her, she was in the middle of getting ready for a "Skype date" with some new dude from like, the Netherlands or something. I am immensely proud of Liz's courage to meet someone new -- I swear her divorce history should go in the Guinness World Book of Records. I mean it went on and on, and on. Her ex was a real jerk. (and that's putting it mildly.)
So when we spoke she told me this totally wild story about her sister's friend Fran, who Liz has gotten to know. Apparently, Fran told Liz that she reminded her of this woman who writes a blog. Yeah. My blog. Fran lives like 120 miles away. How she found my blog, I have no idea but the fact that she knows my dear friend Liz and ummmm, compared our type of thinking/writing just blows my mind. I got tears in my eyes when Liz told me. And tonight, at dinner, I told Brian and the kids the story. Brian got the chills (so he said :) and the kids whooped in delight. "Yeah mom!" they shouted. It's kind of a nice feeling when your kids think you are a rock star so...I have to thank you Fran, if you are still reading my blogs and you happen to see this shout out to you. I am not sure what you are getting from my words but I feel a little less lonely writing these entries now that I know a friend of a dear friend of mine is reading them. As Liz would say, hearing that story was like "getting a wink from God."
Small world. Totally, totally small world.
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