Karen and I had this plan. She was going to take pictures of water and we were going to blow them up and put them on the wall. Just beautiful ocean. The resolution on the scanner I used isn't great, but this was one of the many photos she took on a trip to the Bahamas in the Spring of 2005. I intend to blow up the pictures, etc. The problem is that each time I do something we planned to do, that's one less thing to look forward to doing. I know, I know...
Now onto just the feeling:
My school is closing for no good reason.
My students will be scattered this June and most will fall away. I will want to follow them, stay on top of them. But, I can't. There are too many. I will try to follow one or two.
I just finished Stephen Elliott's "A Life Without Consequences" in which he talks about the fact that, at each group home, people seemed to care--sometimes anyway. No one would ever take him home. In his final analysis, that was what he most needed.
Do I take a kid home? Adopt one? I can't. I can barely do what I do.
Karen died over a year ago. Every day, that becomes harder and more "real". She always wanted to take me in -- send me to a spa, get me healthy. I wouldn't let her. I didn't want to take advantage.
It took five years for my cat Larry to sit in my lap. Six months for Henry to be a furry marshmallow.
Trust is so damned hard. Meanwhile, some kid just wants to go home.
Me, too.
Instead, we all fall in love and we all fall to pieces.
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