Quietly

The week has flown away almost without my noticing the passage of the time.  Suddenly, I looked up, and Friday has come.  One would think this would indicate a period of idyllic bliss, of being so calm and content that the time flows like a smooth, broad river.  I wish that were true.  It's more like chunks of time simply fell away, were carved out, and now a finished shape is revealed.

Two days were consumed with those obligatory doctor appointments that seem to crop up now and then.  They always come in bunches, but I guess that's the best way to do it, all at once and then over with for a time.  I saw my neurologist who told me that I was doing fine off the dreaded Topamax.  For the first time in about five years, I am free. The other two days, I read, watched TV, did laundry, worked through the minutia of life.  


I should be out using the last of my summer in some spectacular way, but to be honest, nothing has sounded good.  The greatest good to me has been this quiet.  It has felt necessary and right.  I have learned to go with that when I feel it.

And yet, I know that somehow it is not exactly a good.  I feel a little tired.  I find myself frequently sad.  This isn't just R&R no matter how many little things I do.

Now, I have to get up and go to the school for awhile, work on my classroom.  There are things that need to be done while it is still peaceful, before the great rush of the new year begins.  I wonder if the rush that accompanies it will sweep away this feeling or if I will continue to move quietly along, a ghost in the shadows.