camping with dad.




it's cold here, the dead of california winter, and yesterday i had to borrow a sweater from one of my 4th graders because the auditorium at jefferson is not heated. we were busy memorizing the 50 united states song, by special request for our principal and i felt goofy, relaxed with this group that shows up every thursday after school to learn how to sing. i'm amazed sometimes at their openness, their willingness to freeze and work, to focus the best their little 9 year old minds can. i motivate them the best i can, and lately bribe them with stories. their eyes light up, their singing comes alive. we get warmer.

to help them remember the order of all 50, i talked of many summers in the car. when the modulation comes, we stopped at maine to emphasize the half step, and i remembered camping with matt in bar harbor. mom with the coleman gas stove and dad bent over, the sound of that crank on the pop up trailer that blew a tire once as we drove across some dry summer landscape. i remembered our family in hand me downs, the unit of us. my brother and i, the rock climbers with ropes borrowed, climbing up and down a five foot cliff to the ocean which kept coming and going, leaving sea creatures for a child's hands to explore. i told them about the wonder of it all, adventure, and the rocky maine mountains where we climbed up iron ladders. i remembered, and smiled.

jasmine raised her hand, told me that she thinks i have had a good life, traveling to all these places. i realized they have already heard of africa, of my students there. of chinatown in the summer, and the bean ice drinks i love. mexico and getting lost on the way to acapulco, the craziest day.

it is through their eyes that i can know my own story differently. and give thanks so deeply for the good of it all. in these moments i am changed to know what wealth, along with what sorrow. i carry them both, and sing with energy in my eyes.