Bunny Horseshoes

Today I'm working from Brandy's classroom so that we can leave to drive to PA when school is over. As a reward for finishing math and a break before starting language arts Brandy offered the two kids that are in her class right now an option to go outside and play for 10 minutes (she's a special ed teacher so kids come and go from regular ed to her classroom). Being kids of course they accepted.

And thus I found myself playing bunny horseshoes (the sticks look like carrots and the horseshoes look like bunny ears) and jumping rope on a beautiful September day. Laughing at our inability to even hit the stick, let along hook it, and the kids reaction to us telling them the phrase 'Close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades' Brandy and I had a fleeting moment of normalcy I think. It's amazing how children can offer that. Something about them speaks more than any words to say 'life will go on'.

And this is why I love children. In the rest of my life I agree with my new friend in Lament for a Son "All these things I recognize. I remember delighting in them - trees, art, house, music, pink morning sky, work well done, flowers, books. I still delight in them. I'm still grateful. But the zest is gone. The passion is cooled, the striving quieted, the longing stilled. My attachment is loosened. I can do without them. They don't matter. The joy that comes my way I savor. But the seeking, the clutching, the aiming is gone. I don't suppose anyone on the outside notices. I go through my paces. What the world gives, I still accept. But what it promises, I no longer reach for."

But while laughing with my sister, and playing bunny horseshoes with these sweet children that I've known for only 4 hours, I'm ok. Teaching them how to jump rope is much more important than all the strategic plans sitting inside on my computer that I'm supposed to review. I'm not sure exactly why, but bunny horseshoes made me truly smile today.