I have been hovering between two worlds for the better part of this early, quiet morning. The threat of a snow storm had swirled around the hallways of school most of the day yesterday and, last night, the weatherpeople (I feel like they should have their own origin story) kept finding their way into my phone, pinging me with their alarming upgrades from threat to watch to warning. “Anywhere from 2 to 18 inches” was the ominous mantra.
But I can’t stay in this space for long. I have to place my feet firmly onto the cold floor and I must know which path I am on today. Teacher me or mom/wife me. Each has a very different rhythm and pace, and each requires an approach from a surprisingly different angle. While I have always known that the sounds and smells of the spaces clearly marked these worlds unique, it wasn’t until this morning that I considered how very different I am within them.
As a teacher, I am in charge. I am in control. All of the variables are set by me until the throngs of 7th graders infiltrate…and then I am warrior-coach: readjusting, deflecting, supplementing, zigging and zagging from moment to moment, responding to the students’ thoughts, writing, commentary, movement.
But at home? I am at ease. I am sitting, with little tension, absorbing the energy as it comes, retreating if necessary, otherwise, embracing for sustenance. I am intricately ensconced in the vibrations of the four other beings in this world (five, if you include the dog) and the effect that they have on me is all encompassing.
I check the closing list one last time, trying to decipher the patterns. I breathe deeply the energy of this in between space, wondering if the me that inhabits these two disparate worlds can be fused into one, complete Amy.