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Sad Feelings

Today is my last day of classes.  I always get full of regrets on the last day.  What didn’t we cover?  What could I have done better?  What did we spend too much time on?  Not enough?  I worry that I barely know my students.  I feel like they might feel slighted.  That I didn’t pay enough attention to them or their work.  I didn’t pay enough attention to their work.  Because their work is…theirs.  Their problem.  I can’t pounce on it.  I feel nervous about doing so, that I’m not entitled.  I worry that I didn’t well-represent the Loft.  That I didn’t please them.

Teaching fulfills my need to please.  At least it’s in a way that provides me an income.

Next week, it’s back to being a Mom.  Matilda and I will go to the beach.  If it stops raining.  If it doesn’t, we’ll watch movies in the basement while I try to clean up down there.  Our basement makes the one in The Silence of the Lambs look like a Victorian parlor.

Next week, it’s back to query letters.  And working on my new draft.  Seeing how I can make up fake people when I get a bit of time.

Next week Adrian goes to Singapore for 21 days.  I will have to mow the lawn.  I will have to sleep with Matilda.  I will have to cook.  I will not be able to kiss his freckly upper lip.

Next week, I can read all the books that came for me this week at the library.

I feel bereft and rich, simultaneously.

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