My calendar has turned. My year begins and always has in September, rather than in January. I’ve always felt a certain rush, a thrill even after declaring to my husband that this year is not the same, due to anticipation of new medication trials. It’s really not and I have concerns. But on the way home from the doctor early this morning, blaring my radio loudly to block out any repetition of doctor conversation, I began to be infused once more with that excitement as I changed from one radio station to the next searching for that just perfect song to fit my mood. Bad habit. I’m once again, feeling the newness of the year beginning. It is creeping up on me. I’m feeling it simply because I realize that I am alive. I am not done yet with these forever living learning moments.
The school bus is not stopping at my driveway. Even so, it’s the ceremony of new school days here with two daughters who will be missing their brother as he is off to a school with well defined walls. We’ve got blank notebooks to fill, new pencils, traditional photos to take and the expected goodies to start the moment for both students and guide. It is a special day. And yet, isn’t every day important? Do not all of our acts warrant celebration?
So, yes, we’ve begun organization and a bit of book studies. We are busy diagraming grammar, memorizing poetry and yes, attempting to get back into math. This year we have a gracious retired math instructor to help us periodically and to play math reasoning games with the girls that I don’t feel the stamina to. There are harp lessons, piano to practice and animals to feed. There may be even be more animals to feed than are out back currently....time will tell. We are listening to a world history audiotape with our eyes shut pretending we are back in time and planning all the science experiments that we uproariously mess up together. It is the beginning of new memories and new opportunities; a beginning for change. I am humbled and wonder just how much I will learn in the coming year.
I like this little school room with it’s sky blue walls, maps and collections of rocks and shells and all sorts, but we are out of here for the remainder of the day. It’s only September and I cannot remain in the classroom when the classroom is beyond these doors. We are going to hop into the van to take off to a local preserve. I will pay for it physically later, but it will be worth it. We want to declare our goodbyes to the monarch butterflies at the butterfly house before they take flight again this year. I’m not sure how many more days or years we’ve got like this together. So in my mind as every year, I am down on my knees once again whispering the prayer from the Psalms or perhaps it is being whispered to me. It is so ingrained in my mind at this point, it is if I actually hear it aloud: “Teach us to number our days, so that we may present to thee a heart of wisdom.”