a fleeting moment

I was driving home from the store.  I think I’d gone to pick up a few craft items for class the next day.  I was in my second year of teaching 6th grade Language Arts at a middle school in Austin.  It was an evening in early spring, so the weather was not yet crazy-Texas-hot.  Jake and I were on the verge of engagement.    As I drove back to my apartment, I rolled down the window and lit a cigarette. I took a long drag and exhaled.  I stuck my hand out window and floated it on the wind as it blew into my car, into my face and through my hair.  I remember that moment so vividly because suddenly I was overcome by an overwhelming appreciation for my life.  I started to cry .  I felt like my heart was going to explode, it was so full of love and passion and every good thing that I’d seen in my young life up to that point.  I felt so grateful to be alive and living a life I loved.

And  the next day was one of the most hellish of my teaching career – complete with a failing lesson and a student standing outside my portable after screaming at me with the mother of all expletives. I went home that day in tears struggling to dig deep inside myself for the strength to return and stand in front of my students the next day.

It’s crazy how I remember it like it was yesterday even though it was like twelve years ago. I think it sticks because of the incredible juxtaposition of emotions from one  day to the next. How does that happen?  But in my life, it seems like that’s the way these things do happen.

Yesterday I was meeting a friend at the park. It was a gorgeous day.  The sun was shining, the kids were clean, I was actually wearing make-up.  On the way, we were listening to music, my music, with the volume up.  And the same kind of feeling caught hold of me.    It’s like thankfulness overtook my entire being. I was smiling from ear-to-ear, eyes brimming with tears, as I sang Closer to Fine at the top of my lungs with the Indigo Girls.  My heart felt full of all the goodness, love, and passion I’ve experienced in my life.

And then, when I returned  home, I had an interesting (I’m still trying to figure out words for it) exchange with my husband.  Somehow during a routine afternoon debrief, I lost all the satisfaction and hope I felt just hours before.   I was in tears several times last night.  I felt guilty, angry, and disappointed.  I questioned who I am and how I live my life.  I felt completely knocked down. [As an aside, and to be fair, after talking through it with JC, I realize I misunderstood much of what he said during that conversation.]

Maybe all this speaks to my emotional volatility.  I can own that to a certain degree. I’m a lot more up-and-down than anyone I know.   But that’s not really the point. My point  is that even though they inevitably come paired with some really low lows, those fleeting moments of feeling utterly fantastic and completely satisfied are beautifully inspiring. I’m thankful that I can occasionally  glimpse a depth of love that is mystifying and so much bigger than myself.

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