Today I walked with a friend and our conversation was a comfort I didn't even know I needed.

I was blathering on about life and the Mondays, which swerved to talk of transitions we face as a family, one being the eventuality of me going back to work full time.

It must be said: the when of me going back to work full time is like the scene in When Harry Met Sally when she's bawling, "I'm gonna be 40...." and he says, "When?" and she keeps crying and replies, "....Someday!" It could be this fall, it could be five falls from now but I've been talking a lot about something that has NOT happened yet and I'm not proud of my exhausting tendency to anticipate change long before it actually happens.  The efforts I've made towards full time employment haven't resulted in full time employment; all this worrying about what's next is making me miss what is NOW.

My friend had an interesting perspective on the transitory place where I now sit. First, it's a place that feels "itchy." You know you're there when you're doing more ruminating about someday, than actually doing something. As eager as you can be for answers, it's not the time to"scratch the itch." Spending time in the itchy place may not be comfortable but it is essential in paving the way for the calm, resolution and readiness that come after. To say that another way, about the time I stop anticipating the change, it will come.

Not only did this fine friend of mine acquaint me with a phase I'm in that I didn't even know I was in, she talked about what next will look like before it becomes full time employment. I'll know I'm ready when I do things like talk to three full time teachers about how they balance motherhood and teaching, or when I try to commute one morning to a distant school district I might apply to to see how long it actually takes, or when I am busily seeking three after school childcare options. And oh the relief that will come when the transition no longer looms and I can settle into full time teaching again for a bit (for me and for everyone who's had to hear about it for years)!

Until then, there's afternoons, open and spent walking with a friend, intoxicated by the scent of Daphne (Oh Daphne, you deserve your own post, you are so good! So sweet smelling! Thanks for your scent, accentuating March!) We passed the lone bloom pictured above in a field of weeds, and my friend said, "We wouldn't have noticed it if it was in a field of flowers." This gal right here? She's thankful for the understanding perspective of a friend.


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