Missing You


I miss my morning email from you, like a big hug from far away.

I miss the thrill that it gives me, the lift to my spirits

I miss your eloquence, your intelligence and your point of view

I miss your stories of everyday activities, dearly held dreams and even your darkest fears.

I miss the connection, the history and what we’ve built together.

I miss the knowing, the laughing and the encouraging.

I miss the reminiscing of happy days, the sharing of hopes and dreams,

seeking out our truths, discovering life is not always what it seems.

I miss you, every bit and part and piece of you. Like an addict without her drug,

I feel your absence like a painful wound; darkness where light used to live.

I’d almost forgotten what life was like before I met you.

I’ve become addicted to your wit, your humor and your unique perspective; your point of view.

I crave the conversation, the debate, the exploration of thoughts and philosophy of living.

As with most creatures rare and beautiful, you seek solitude and safety when the world becomes too much;

too much noise, too much pain, too many voices, too much chaos.

I know you are hurting and I wish I could make it all go away.

But you are there and I am here, you walking your path and I, on mine.

I can’t promise I’ll be here forever, no more than you can promise me.

But I know we’ll meet again one day.

Maybe not this at this time and in this place,

perhaps not in this body and not with this face.

I found you once before and I truly wish no more

than to find you once again.

I miss you

and wonder

do you miss me, too?



When the Teacher Needs to be Taught

I am currently sitting in my morning class, with my teacher who reminds me of a squirrel on a steady diet of meth. She’ll start a sentence, not get even three words out, then takes a sharp left and leave the road of Understanding and Coherence. Trying to follow her is like being drunk, blindfolded and thrown into a carnival ride; everything’s spinning, I have no clue where this will lead and there is an overall feeling of anxiety and impending doom. The subject matter should be interesting, as we are studying Women in History, which is all about strong females, working and fighting for their freedom and protecting their way of life, as well as the lives of their children. Sounds good, right? Sounds like something that would have incredible stories of heroines and acts of bravery as well as out-witting the enemy. All of those things are included in the book (one of seven!) that we are reading about. So, basically, the lecture is just a regurgitation of the facts of the book, laden with her personal opinions and biases. Woe to the student who begs to differ, express another possible motivation (different) or even worse still – question the authority of the Professor. We spent a good 15 – 20 minutes this morning while my Passive-Aggressive Professor spoke in general terms about “a incident that occurred in class last Wednesday” and just went off about how she will not stand to be disrespected (apparently she’s the only one that is allowed to distribute disrespect generously to her long-suffering students) and that we are welcome to speak with the Dean; however, nothing would come of it. Good to know that our complaints will not only fall on deaf ears, but that she’s so certain of it, she puffs up with pride as she tells us that, much like peacock adoring their reflection in a mirror. I have to believe that my suffering will be rewarded, that these lost hours/days/weeks will amount to something greater. If nothing else, my tolerance for double standards and unreasonable expectations will increase. Needless to say, this will be a class I will celebrate my ass off, once it has ended. Nothing like a teacher asking a question and then completely shutting that person down, if their answer doesn’t line up with hers.

It reminds me of what my dad used to remind me of often – There are two things you can learn from your parents (or teachers, in this case) what to do and what not to do.

Someone really should teach this professor how to be a decent human being first, then a decent teacher secondly. I would gladly pay to see her schooled as she attempts to “school” us – condescending remarks, making differences of opinion personal matters and running to the Dean if someone has the nerve to call her on her inadequacies.

I hope your Saturday is going well and your heart goes out to me, poor little long-suffering student of an ill-prepared teacher. (sarcasm intended)

Time for prayer –

God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,

the courage to change the things I can

and the wisdom to know the difference.