Picking Up the Thread

The day yawns and stretches and rubs its eyes as light rises behind the eastern ridges. The air is cool, sixty-eight degrees, and it is a Tuesday according to my calendar. I have exactly five days of meeting classes left in the semester. Right now, I don't yet feel the urgency to get ready to meet those classes, to gird my loins for work in the trenches of literacy. That will come later. Right now it's time to remember what it is that I wanted to do with this short life. The moment is the definition of potential, and I am afraid that I cannot live up to that potential, feel some shame about that. I have taken a few wrong turns, taken the easy way, and ended up in a dead end. Not sure what to do about that, how to rectify that mistake. Why has it been so hard to mesh my desires with the demands of livelihood? Time to feel the loss and to act anyway. I don't know why it has gone so awry, but I do know that today I will write, teach, and try to make my word visible in action.