Previously, Now, Later, and Soon

We had a job interview last week at a retreat center in Chicago. Michael and I interviewed for the position of Director, which they are planning on splitting into two positions. Together, Michael and I are the perfect person for the job, or so we think, at least.

True to Murphy's Law, Michael got a stomach virus the night before, and spent the day of throwing up. We went to the interview anyway, as Michael was determined he would be well enough to make it through. He was. But it was a near thing at the beginning, there. But after we sat down with the board and got to talking, everything went smooth and nice, and no vomitting occurred.

The next night, I got sick, and we spent the rest of the week in bed. I haven't been properly hungry since last Wednesday, but I was able to eat well enough over the weekend. Declaring myself fit once again, I headed into work today. I felt fine yesterday. Tired, sure, but I was even able to get out and go to the store. I just hadn't thought about how that trip had been followed by me going back to bed. I had set my laptop up in bed so that I could get writing done while shrouded in blankets and pillows. I wasn't sleeping or anything.

But the bus ride to work today nearly exhausted me. It's going to take a bit to get my energy level back up. Ah well... such is recovery.

I had to return Harry Potter Y La Cámara Secreta to the library today, unfinished. Sigh. It takes so much longer to read in Spanish, and I've been so busy. And I have other excuses too, if you'd like to hear them. I picked up two books of poetry. One called, "I Am the Darker Brother", which is an anthology of African American poets. One called, "Prophet", which is a poetry/prose translation from Arabic about a prophet leaving a city he'd lived in for years to return to his homeland, and all about his last words to the city before he left. I started reading that one at lunch. It's beautiful.

This week at work, I am trying to get all my classes and everything set up for the rest of my time here, which is dwindling. I know I need to think about that. But I can't. I think about what I"ll do next without thinking about the fact that I'll be leaving here--even if it's only to cross the city, but especially if it is to cross the country or the world. I can't even make myself look at how much time I have left. I can't bear to figure it out. I keep telling my teens that we'll think about that later, but not yet. It's always later, later, later.

But I know it's getting to be soon.

I have to think about something else. It's pretty outside. And I want a cup of coffee. And tomorrow is Dad's birthday.

Happy Birthday, Dad!