heavy eyes, heavy skies

This morning, the sky is heavy. It’s one big cloud, dark grey and menacing, yet somehow the light is still pushing through. Those are the most magical skies to me when the trees are backlit against the darkness. I love sunshine. I’m holding onto it for as long as I can. My students complain because I open all the blinds in my room and only turn on one row of fluorescent lights. They don’t understand how badly I need to see outside, how badly I need the light in the room to come more from nature and less from lightbulbs. On days with no light outside, my classroom is dim with only the dry erase boards lit up. Somehow it makes it seem calm, even with thirty or so 8th graders gallivanting around. I wish I could light candles. Stupid fire codes.

I lost a contact on the way to work this morning. I don’t know where it went, but halfway to work, I noticed that my right eye was blurry. I thought maybe my contact had slipped, but instead, it’s not there at all. I feel so off-balance. Everything clear on the left side, everything a blurred mess on the right.

This morning, when I woke Luke up, he groaned and rolled over and said, I don’t want to get up, I’m so comfy. I said, I know, buddy. We all feel like that on these mornings. Still, he let me pick out his clothes and asked me to carry him downstairs. I hefted him into my arms and each time I do this lately, I wonder how much longer I’ll be able to pick him up like this, so big these days. He sighs and puts his tired head on my shoulder and asks me to take him all the way down stairs, until we get to the living room and he spots a Christmas decoration that Shane brought home yesterday. “Wait, stop! I want to stop here. I want to see this, mom.” And he jumps down from my arms, just like that a grumpy morning saved by red letters that say Joy. Yes, joy indeed.

Tonight Shane has parent-teacher conferences until nine pm, his third late evening meeting this week. I keep thinking about what the boys and I will do. I thought maybe we’d see if friends wanted to meet at the park, but it’s so cold and I know that after running several miles, I won’t feel like being out in the cold anymore. Maybe I’ll take them out to dinner or to the store to buy new winter coats or maybe we’ll just sit on the couch and eat pizza. I just can’t wait to see them. I’m trying to push away guilt about running after school because that adds an hour until the time that I get to see them, but I know (hope) they understand how I need to clear my head some days.

I wonder how I’m going to make it through the day with one good eye and one blurry, squinting and feeling off-kilter the entire day. My kids will probably get away with all sorts of misbehavior because I can’t see. What I can see is the sun already slipping away beneath the dark sky and I want to yell at it to stay, please stay, as I squint blurrily out the window and hope that the hours fly by today.