Almost Home

I woke up this morning and looked out the window. The supposed big snow storm didn't appear very threatening and I had not set my alarm the night before sure there wouldn't be work tomorrow. But there was. It was 8:48 when I called in and the receptionist answered. My heart fell to my chilly feet. "When the public schools are open, we are open," she said. "I am going to be a little late," I stammered, throwing off my pajamas. I made it to Harlem at 10:20.

I'd had plans to transcribe the writings of the writers of my memoir workshop. I was going to meditate; write on my own memoir, and clean the apartment. Mainly, I was going to hibernate inside my apartment with what I thought would be a foot of snow outside.

I got to the classroom and the adult learners were working on an exercise given to them by another teacher. I was thankful and hurriedly pulled my morning lesson together. And then it happened. The lesson went smoothly, and the learners listened, took it in, and responded. And then during lunch, the teacher across the hall suggested we might show a movie to both groups and call it "A Snow Day." I clapped my hands and exclaimed, "Yes!"

We showed, "Bruce Almighty" after rummaging at Blockbuster on our lunch hour. And as I sat there watching the movie with the more than 30 adult ESL learners, I smiled, remembering the theme of the movie:

"Be the miracle."

So, in retrospect, I hadn't been able to work on any of my plans today, but instead, helped dozens of people. I went to my evening class, and helped more. Walking to the train for home, tired, but smiling, the day had been full and grand. I greeted my kitty cat inside my apartment and welcomed the time left of the day, the warmth surging in my toes. I knew my upcoming days off would be richer as a result of today.