I'm busy. Lots of reading, lots of writing, lots of trying to figure out what I've already got done and what needs to be done. Mostly I feel like I'm just trying to keep up. But I love my classes. I love the classroom dynamics of the OT classes. You see the same people over and over again, and you begin to form friendships. I like that part, but you know, I also like interacting with the people in my other classes, the ones that I don't see so often. The hearty friendly farm boy who sits across the aisle from me in Life Span Development. Marty who sits beside me. The techno kid from English Comp. The fiercely intelligent young man who sits at the end of my row. We often find ourselves staring across our differences to respect each other, and that is always kind of cool when that happens.
So I'm reading and studying and trying to stay on top of it all. Enjoying myself. Enjoying my job. It's kind of interesting when people come in and stare at me. "I know you," they say, in a musing way. I look back at their unfamiliar faces and I say, "I don't know. I'm Debby H......," and their eyes will widen. They do know me. They read my column. Some of them read this blog. It amazes me, the cross section of people who are followers. I expect women followers, but there's a lot of guys out there who are regular readers too. It's nice. It really is.
Towards autumn, I always find myself thinking back. September is the month that I found my cancer. I read some of my old blog posts. Two years ago, at this time, life was completely normal. I babbled on, completely unaware, and then on September 26th, I found a lump, and life veered off on this big wide detour. I read through a few of the posts, and, you know, it almost seems unreal, as if it happened to somebody else, yet when I turned the page on the calendar to September just a couple days ago, right away, my eyes sought out the 26th. It's on a Sunday this year. I'm glad that I'll begin the day in church. Just seems right somehow. Mostly what I think is this. I think of the fifty September 26ths that meant nothing at all, not until THAT September 26th. Out of all of the September 26ths, only one of them has made such a powerful impact on my life. I think about that sometimes. September 8th was just September 8th, until my son was born on it. And September 12th was just September 12th, until it became Mike's birthday. September 18th was just September 18th, until the day that my Brianna was born. September 11th was just September 11th, until...well...and September 26th was just September 26th until 2008. You see where I'm going with this, right? It occurs to me that unwittingly, every year, we live the day that we will die. The day means nothing. Not yet.
What does it all mean? Heck. I don't know. I think it means that I'd better finish off my coffee and get moving. I've got a busy day in front of me. No time to for my mind to be wandering today. And, you know, that's probably a real good thing.