Windy City

This weekend I was, once again, indulged. I am fortunate to have a host of family and friends (most notably my husband), who encourage me to take care of myself. To treat myself. To go ahead and leave my kids, my work, my responsibilities, and spend money so that I can do something selfish and even expensive. Because I deserve it? Because I need it? It may be because they love me, but I suspect it may be because they can see that I am on a downward spiral towards midlife crisis and need a boost of energy once in order to avoid losing track of myself. Regardless of their reasoning, they were right, and it was a great weekend.

Danielle turned 35 last week. To culminate the celebration of her growth and change over this past year, and to ring in the next, she hosted an Open Studio at her home to exhibit several dozen paintings. I wanted to be there, but he cost (monetary and energy) of flying out was prohibitive. Then James called to offer his frequent flyer miles. James, friend from Brown, charismatic presence at our wedding, who flies around the world consulting, spending endless hours in airports, on red-eyes, away from home, fastidiously banking precious miles to be used for a really great trip, a vacation to South Africa or Brazil in the middle of winter, perhaps, or something really worth it, only to generously shake them into my lap last week, to bring me to Chicago for two nights so we can have a conversation, share a bottle of wine, and find out what is really going on behind those pithy Facebook posts. Am I really worth all those miles? It’s lovely to feel as if I might be.

When I mentioned to a colleague at school that I was catching a plane to Chicago on Friday afternoon, she urged me to leave early, arranged for someone to cover my bus duty, hustled to make sure someone else was in my classroom at the end of the day and I could scoot out on time. Go, she said. Go, go. Do something for yourself. Get out of here. Enjoy. Such a great message, and one we all need to hear more often from those around us. So I went, making every connection smoothly with only seconds to spare.

The two nights in the windy city was presented a series of inspirational conversations. Danielle surrounds herself with artists and patrons of the arts of all sorts, each one of them with a message and mission. Each exchange fed in to my own experience. I head in to Monday, and on towards January, with the intention of taking a Facing History seminar, ideas for how to engage my students in the design of our new school, a desire to sensibly renovate our home (eventually). If I had been at home, playing with and taking care of my wonderful children, doing laundry and shopping for groceries, I don’t think I would have had a complete thought beyond, “What’s for dinner?” My challenge is to preserve space for constructive, progressive thoughts in the perpetual climate of survival. I should be able to do this, even in Concord, even as a mother and wife.

Meanwhile my wonderful husband has been at home with the kids. He confesses, “I can’t wait for you to come home!” when I spoke with him this morning. It’s not easy being a single papa, and I am rushing home through sleet to slip happily back into my role, hoping that all those seeds of intention will keep until spring.