I never would have imagined when Mrs. Strand spun the big plastic hands on the clock in front of our kindergarten class that one day time would actually move that quickly. Oh, she taught us how to tell it, this time, but joyfully left us to figure out what to do with it. 

She was also the first person to ask me to read aloud. I suppose you could say, well, anyone could have done it. And I suppose that’s true. There were many teachers at Washington Elementary that could have gone through the basics, but the difference was, she not only gave me a voice, she in turn, listened. What a thing! To be heard. 

Decades later she would come to listen once again as I was reading from one of my published works. And I could have been 5, or 40, time disappeared, and I was brand new. Again. 

Yesterday, I read aloud to her daughter, along with friends who sat cross-legged with me on that school floor, and new friends who have sped up to gather in the same hands of spinning time. And we all were brand new. Again. 

I’m reminded of the song, 

“Those schoolgirl days 

Of telling tales and biting nails are gone
But in my mind 
I know they will still live on and on

But how do you thank someone 
Who has taken you from crayons to perfume?
It isn’t easy, but I’ll try…”

That’s what I’m trying to do, I guess, is thank you. Thank you! All of you who showed up, who show up daily. All of you who laugh and cry and hope and hug and begin again and again. Together. What a thing it is, this living! The sun comes up, and we begin again.