Peace. I kept writing g the word peace in the condensation misting my shower’s glass door.

Stroke my finger along the pane. Straight lines arc into curls that tendril through space and coil into ellipses and crescents.

Peace

I have fought so hard for this week.

The first week in the semester but with a new group of students so it’s like starting a new school year. And with it being January, I settled into the days with a placid joy. Usually, I tread thick water and pretend that I am fine. That I only need to survive to a certain point before an extended break arrives.

But, this week, I exulted in my happiness. I’m finally measuring up to my own expectations and feeling confident that I am truly good enough.

Enough is a foreign term to me. I know when to say enough for things that don’t always apply to me. When to say enough on lesson planning or grading. But not when I see my reflection, even if it’s just in the mirrors in my mind.

But I held up my personal measuring stick today. It reached the top of my head beautifully. I nestled in my contentment and looked over my plan books.

I had done enough this week. And working on next week. And I know that I will find my satisfaction in whatever I do because my heart is finally beating in the right rhythm.

This week, I arrived at Friday. 3:30 Friday. And I was happy and content and excited about next week. And, for me, that is enough.