School is in session. New classroom, new students, old joys. My most difficult student from last year came to find me (I am happy to say ALL my students from last year came to find me); as I was walking away from our brief chat I heard her tell a peer "Her new students--- they are so lucky!" Makes everything right with the world. I make sure I see them during class changes. They make sure they come and say good morning before they go to their new classes. We will all adjust. I am not forgotten. They are not forgotten. What more could we want?

In setting up my classroom, I found an old folder with the things that were once on the bulletin board above my desk , and in it found a childhood picture of Chris along with a poem he emailed me the first week in September a few years back. It was lovely. As he was. I love and miss him so very much!

Little Stones at My Window

by Mario Benedetti

translated by Charles Hatfield

for roberto and adelaida

Once in a while
joy throws little stones at my window
it wants to let me know that it's waiting for me
but today I'm calm
I'd almost say even-tempered
I'm going to keep anxiety locked up
and then lie flat on my back
which is an elegant and comfortable position
for receiving and believing news

who knows where I'll be next
or when my story will be taken into account
who knows what advice I still might come up with
and what easy way out I'll take not to follow it

don't worry, I won't gamble with an eviction
I won't tattoo remembering with forgetting
there are many things left to say and suppress
and many grapes left to fill our mouths
don't worry, I'm convinced
joy doesn't need to throw any more little stones
I'm coming
I'm coming.