Yesterday we journeyed up the mountain to the Route 66 of amusement parts, Tweetsie Railroad. The trains run on coal and the parents run on memories of being there on some mountain trek with their own family, buying a teepee purse from a place with a trained chicken and everyone fighting and sleeping in a careening station wagon. The nostalgia runs deep and true. You are never too old to sit atop a plastic horse, voluntarily go to jail or get perfectly sick on a spinning ride.
Tweetsie was lovely but reality is looming like an overcast sky. I get students tomorrow and then we are all back to school full throttle. The spinning ride is life and we can’t get off. Too busy is a way of life no matter how hard I try otherwise.
This morning, early, Finn came in my room crying. I had a bad dream, he said. A plague came and I lived and you didn’t. I don’t want you to die.
That’s a lot when you are half asleep and you can’t promise not to die. Lying doesn’t solve the world’s problems so I just said I promise not to die this morning, in a dream plague, before breakfast. Then I reminded him that yesterday we were up a mountain riding things and tomorrow we would be at school learning things and for right now we were snuggled up discussing things. Isn’t that a wonderful world? Isn’t that a great list? Aren’t we blessed beyond measure? We are spinning too fast but we are hanging on to each other.