Rain, rain, thank for you not going away. Thank you for lasting all day. Thank you for giving me the day off. And a two hour delay tomorrow. Because I’m just spinning in circles.

Life during Covid took some interesting turns. And that’s about all I can say to that because to go more in depth is just not worth the time. The energy. The circles.

Life is circular. Or elliptical. Or oval. It has smooth edges that slip me into its rotating energy and I spin. Spin. Spin. I get into the loop and find myself going in the same slipstream. Around. Around. Around.

At times, life is boxy. A series of rectangles and squares. I bump up against the edges. Get lost in the corners. 

I’m not quite certain what I’m trying to write about. The title came to me while I’m watching a movie. And, it feels like the right title. The right point that I am feeling. That I am spinning in circles. That I’m stuck on the tiny spring axis, like the rubbery-plastic ballerina in the jewelry boxes of my girlhood.

In four years, if I am counting my years correctly, I will have my 30 years of teaching. I started public education in 1998. That means 2028 is 30. Right? I’m wondering what the next step will be. 

I’m ready to retire. I have loved my years of teaching. Have loved my career. But I’m restless. I’m ready for another step. Another stage. Another shape in my life that I can assume and shape my life into or mold my life around or mold into my life. 

At the same time, I still love my career and still love my work and still love my students. I relish those moments when they sit up a little straighter and look at me with excitement because something I said made sense or made them see the world in a new and profound manner. I love when they engage with the literature or their writing or life and just become a bit more excited about the content and curriculum that I’m teaching.

I spin in circles. Learn new things. Try new things. Go back to the same old. Touch. Go. Start. Stop. Arrive at and leave from the same destination. 

The map beckons to me. My hiking boots are soaked from the rain today, but I have thick, wool socks. Maybe it’s time to put them on. 

Take a walk. A hike. A journey.

Find something new. A shape that has no edges. No angles. No planes.