LEAP YEAR 2008

"Go!"

Three people in three cars were in the left turn lane earlier this morning. A grey van, a blue truck and me. The traffic light turned green and the guy in the grey van did not move. The guy in the blue truck rolled down his window, stuck out his head and said in a loud but friendly tone "GO." The man in the grey van bolted forward toward Highway 147 and so did we. Perhaps the blue truck's horn did not work. I'd like to think not. How often do we give people a proverbial honk when a spirited "GO" would do?

The Dog

Twelve years ago, I adopted a dog because a woman's magazine said it was a good way to meet a man. Shamelessly, I adopted Dora and met a man. Six years later, the man and I had two children but we decided to live-in on a college campus that would not let us have a dog. We gave Dora away to a good home. Now, the two children want a dog and a friend needs to give her dog away to a good home.

Letters

I grew up next door to my sixth grade teacher. We bumped into each other today as I walked to my parent's home. She was an incredible teacher. She let us construct a time tunnel out of refrigerator boxes. She let me instruct my classmates on how to give shoulder massages. Most memorable were the letters she wrote me with words of praise and ways to be less stressed out. Oddly enough, I was stressed out in sixth grade. All these years later, I remember the letters. They still mean the world to me.

Love is not self-conscious.

Over the past 48 hours, I've had the good fortune of participating in two spirited events. The first was my graduation from UNC-Chapel Hill. The second was a Durham Bulls baseball game I attended today with my son's kindergarten class. At both events, I was a self-conscious member of the audience. When the Chair of our department pulled out a camera during his closing remarks and asked us to "strike a pose," I fell wooden. When each baseball player's theme song came on today, I wondered if I should dance around like all of the other six year old kids. I didn't. In the future, I am going to take a cue from one mother at my graduation who jumped up and down and screamed as her son crossed the stage. Love is never self-conscious.

Right?

Be they acronyms, terms or expressions, communities share words. In my community, many of us end comments with "right?" Students do it. Even professors do it. Like "um" or "ahhh," when I start counting, I get edgy. Right does not make might. The leap here, I believe, is to express my thoughts without a need for affirmation. Can I say something and then have the courage to bathe in the silence? Right? Right?

Are You My Mother?

The other day I met with a student I admire. As we both got our coffee, I filled my mug with half decaf and half regular. "My mom does the same thing," she said innocently. It was a sudden leap into a "ma'am moment," a moment when I realized I looked like a mom all day long, not only to my own flesh and blood but to society at large. I don't know what to think about this coming of age really. I am not certain I am ready to lead with my maternity. While I cannot control the external experience of me, I will always enjoy great latitude on the inside.

B-l-e-c-c-c-h-h-h

Frances will receive her First Communion on Sunday. She has the white dress. One of her godmothers is bringing a veil. She has her white shoes. She knows what to do. What Frances is worried about is the wine. Her teacher told her to try it at home. She did and it parched her throat, she said. I told her she could fake it. That did not sit well with her. I am beginning to think preparation is not always the best strategy. Sometimes it is better just to leap first without knowing what it will taste like.