I admit it: it’s been hard to get a decent night’s sleep around here lately. It has been so intense that I’ve given up.
The end of the semester. I tell myself that the calm I normally associate with this day will eventually take hold. But it's not here yet. There's too much commotion. Too many disturbances. My daughter says to me (as we listen to the Christmas choir) -- I don't feel at all that it's the Christmas season. I agree. I hold her and we listen anyway.
I enter the law building before the sun fully wakes us up. It’s empty here now, except for the sole reader, hoping to get it done before class...
I know you're having a rough time of it, but let me tell you – me too! I am exhausted!
December 3rd. I remember so well the first day of the semester. When I first met my two new batches of first year law students (and my other class students). We were not friends then. Strangers. With indeterminate habits and personalities. And then suddenly, we were friends.
I come in to my very last class of the semester and the room is decorated and there are treats and there is jingle rock playing. I see torts, no, excuse me – tortes, cakes, and cupcakes, with banners screaming “Camic relief!” It is the last straw. Overwhelmed, I can choke out nothing beyond a quiet thank you.
It’s over. My small groups are dispersed. I already miss the daily rituals.
Outside, the air is remarkably tart. I leave school, hurriedly, because, well, you know, a daughter is passing through on this day and I want to see her, listen to her talk about her own day. On Bascom Hill, the snow falls and falls and suddenly, we are in winter.