Several years ago we lived on the gulf coast of Florida. I remember hunkering down in the living room while Hurricane Katrina raged outside. Despite the evacuation order issued for our neighbourhood, I was pregnant with Connor and couldn't bear to leave home. How the wind ripped the branches from the trees, the shingles from our roof, and the shutters from our windows (later found bobbing in the neighbour's pond)! The sound of the rain as it battered our house, the wind hurling things at us from every direction! Smash! - on the back of the house! Crash! - on the roof! Wham! - on the shuttered front window! Yet, amid the chaos and confusion the air tingled with the strange energy of life at its most real and raw.
Is it wrong to compare the end of the school year to a hurricane? Probably, but that's how I've been feeling lately. The flood of activity, the tingling, electric sense of change that hovers in the air. When you have a food allergic child and all the school parties seem to revolve around food, it can feel as if you're being hit from every direction. A cupcake party one day, a popsicle party the next, summer birthday celebrations, field day. And then, late last week, there was a very special poetry tea. The kids had worked so hard throughout the year. Memorizing classics from Robert Lewis Stevenson, Aileen Fisher, Eloise Greenfield, HW Longfellow. This year Connor had a solo speaking part, and I didn't dare miss it!