metaphors

Yesterday, my first day back at school after leaving Aaron.....I was sad and nothing but sad. A few of my students asked me if I was okay. My own children, each at different times, asked me what was wrong. Kennedy, who can read me quite well, asked if I was sad, tired, or stressed. I told her it was all three. A few students pushed my buttons. Not much went my way. All my feeble attempts at being positive and happy were quickly overthrown, so I very un-nobly gave up trying.

Finally, though, it was time. Time to make that phone call to Aaron.

You have no idea what that conversation was like for me. It was...

...a drink of water to a parched and dry throat.

...a sun shining bright after days of gray, dreary clouds.

...a relaxing bubble bath after a long, trying day.

...a smile in a crowd of frowns.

...finally being able to open a window at the end of winter to let in the fresh air of an almost- spring day

...my own personal Prozac

Then there was tonight's conversation. All because I felt like no matter what I said, I couldn't raise his spirits, erase his stress, lighten his mood. It was...

...pulling in to the gas station just after the prices have been drastically raised.

...having a headache and finding only empty bottles of tylenol.

...a lukewarm shower because there is no hot water.

...yet another snow storm at the end of an Indiana February.

Luckily, though, yesterday's conversation packed much more of a punch than tonight's did.

I'm already watching the clock until I can dial those seven numbers again tomorrow.