St. Patrick's Day... in 1984 I was in Chicago celebrating my heritage with my Uncle Jim and his family. I had just returned from my friend Cindy's wedding in Minneapolis, and made a stopover on my way back to the Detroit area. Uncle Jim died three years ago, now. (Cindy is largely responsible for the blog... I saw hers and thought if she can find time to write and learn the lingo and technology with 11 kids etc, what IS my real excuse?)
Back then, I was little more than a year shy of my teaching degree and ready to be a "grown up" sort of, although I still have copies of Cindy and I at the laundry mat before her wedding. (I was inside the dryer.)
Now, I have been teaching at the same school (my journal at the time predicted I'd be 10 years and on to a writing career) in varioius grades. Although, the school and it's neighborhood has changed around me so that it really doesn't feel like the same place. I am a grown up, I have purchased a house on my own, before marrying, and purchased another with my husband. I have three very wonderful, very different from each other children.
Funnily, I don't feel "that" different. I was talking about this with my mom, she turned 68 on Friday. She said she doesn't feel "that' different either.
Time is a precious, strange thing.
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