Today, I packed up my workbag, and waiting for the grindingly slow progress of the clock hands toward 3:30. A small herd of students had sworn they were coming in to do makeup work (we're in the eleventh hour, so suddenly, everyone is in a state of panic), but nobody had shown up by 3:15, and I blew out my candle, shut down my computer, hoisted my ponderous bag, and bolted for the door.
It felt almost sinful to be leaving that early. Other teachers were still working in their classes; the sounds of the extended day students echoed in our high-ceilinged old halls. Sunlight streamed through the window so rich and so good that it almost had a taste as it flooded the central hall.
I moved down the stairs as fast as my stiff knees would allow, darted through the office, and then I was out into the parking lot. There were still cars there, and again, the feeling of doing something illicit through me. I put my PT Cruiser into reverse, rolled down my windows, cranked my Todd Agnew cd, and put the pedal down.
When I got home, again I marveled at the sheer luxury of being home in the daytime. I loosed Missy, she promptly took off to explore the privet hedge, and I got out a seldom-used plastic Adirondack chair.
Sitting beneath the bare branches of the chestnut tree in my backyard, I indulged in a Diet Mountain Dew and the first few chapters of A Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovitch. My bottle tree caught the golden afternoon sun, the windchimes rang softly, Missy and Yelldo intermittently gave me doggy kisses, and Granny's daffodils shone in Wordsworthian glory. I felt peace descend like a winged spirit, and all the tiredness that has been plaguing me for the past week melted away.
It was a brief interlude, but a vital one. I needed those peaceful moments alone at home more than I had realized. Tomorrow, when the students are apathetic, when another unreasonable demand on my time is made, I will have the soft daffodil-scented warmth of today to carry me through.
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