Grief is a capricious beast. It lingers for an inexplicable time, fading and roaring back in the most unpredictable fashion. I was once skilled at handling the grief ocean. I could compartmentalize the most intense tsunami of emotion reducing the wave to a mere ripple.
I need a break from this madness. A day at the beach to let my soul refresh. A grounding walk in the jungle. An opportunity to just share life with other people that doesn't involve moaning about the daily grind or searching for solutions to problems. A laugh so deep it leaves the body trembling. Awe so inspired you are left as who you are, where you are, when you are with nothing past, present, or future weighing in. But how do you get that scheduled into a life whipping by in a flood of light and sound?
There's a good chance Indiana has decided it can be spring now. I hesitate to say that because, well, it's Indiana. Tomorrow it could prove me wrong. Because Indiana. Nevertheless, this evening Miss Monster and I enjoyed a lovely walk. Things are greener. There are hints of pink, white, and yellow peeking around the corners. The chill in the air tamped back from sub-zero. All in all, it approached nice. As we wound our way around the neighborhood sidewalks, we reached a bridge that provided dry access over a...creek? Drainage ditch? On the other side was a couple walking with their toddler. Upon seeing Miss Monster the tiny tyke was obviously nervous, so Miss Monster and I stepped into the grass. Heck, Miss Monster was taller than she was. Of course she was nervous.
In 8th grade, our class was divided into three pods. Each pod was then divided again into three sub-classes that rotated through three subjects - Social Studies, Language Arts, and Math. The three classes often coordinated. For example, when we discussed the Revolutionary War in social studies we read Johnny Tremain in language arts. Math focused on Algebra and incorporated somehow, but frankly I wasn't a big fan of math and my energy remained focused on the liberal arts then as it does now. Periodically, all of the sub-classes in a pod would work on one big project that incorporated all three subjects. When we ventured into the point in US history when settlers began traveling west, we read How the West Was Won and our project was to work in groups to create a popsicle stick western town. My group of three was assigned the undertaker's building.