A return, to new things

Finishing a season of your life ultimately leads to the beginning of another.  That would be why--not that long ago--I found myself approaching the phenomenon of end/beginning, asking: 

What now shall I do?

Clear to me was the need to stay put.  Tired I was, and the thought of establishing myself in a new place was overwhelming to say the least.  'Here I am,' I thought, 'my feet on the ground, my community solidly around me.  I'm not leaving.'  

Fine.  Ok.  Great.

But the question remained:  Staying put then, what now shall I do?

And then, one day, the answer fell out of the sky.

And then, over the next few months, it all fell into place:

My new thing would be Assistant Directing the Institute housed in this cute little cottage, which I had wandered past for all of my Penn State years, and for which I had inexplicably gathered a special affinity in my heart.

And so, in these first weeks of a return to a semester, 

I have settled in.

I have begun my new tasks,

have rejoiced in my new office

tucked inside that cute little cottage.

But I have also rejoiced in a return to the things
that I have long loved about my living here,

such as the walk to and from home,
that passes through this town I call mine.

And then, this week,

a return to the classroom,
to new students and learning and moments full of fun.

A new season, mixed with just enough of the old.

Because my God is big, and the keeper of my way:
This now shall I do, with gratitude.

Return to Normal

Recently I found myself on the phone, 

saying "I'm just running errands tonight..."

And I realized: A return to normal life is lovely.

Lovely also was the spontaneous inclusion of this special girl, 

 whose original plan for the evening was to follow her sister around at her new school orientation,

but who ultimately decided there were
much more important ways to spend her time.

After our errands were over, 

 we returned to my house to find
Ginger in the middle of a cookie making spree, 

 which we jumped right in on.

 Investing deeply in the making,

 we decided we needed to wait around for the baking.
We hung out, lazily.  We googled characters from Harry Potter.  We discussed important life issues, such as whether or not having your tooth numbed for a small cavity is worth losing feeling in your face for the rest of the day.  Then, we watched our favorite food network, in order to make us hungry for:

YUM.

By the end of our spontaneous and slightly random evening,

the evidence was clear:

Hooray.  For Normal.

Ah, family.

It all started out peacefully enough,

 a lovely evening swing, with Grandpa.

 Then, someone got the great idea that said swing would be a perfect place for a perfect family picture,

 and all hell broke loose.

We were striving for perfect, when realistic is what we got.

And, you know what?

I think that that's the way it should be.

Delighted, I'm sure.

While ceremony fills me with grumpy, relaxed and peaceful gathering with dear people fills me with:

Delight.

My family,

having rolled into my living room
to partake in the events of the day,

joined with me and my usual cast of characters

in one of my favorite locations, 

for an evening of lounging,

chatting,

eating,

and playing.

I wandered around from place to place,

taking in the scene,

happy all over my heart.

The temperature perfect, the breeze lovely,
the food delicious, the people mine.

 These men manned the grill,

 these ladies oversaw the table.

In fact, the number of friends who worked behind the scenes to make the night a success gifted me with their kindness, and freed me to dwell in beautiful memories.

Memories like

 this,

 with this delightful one,

solidly one of my favorites.

Memories like

 conversation with this old cousin,

 getting to know this newer little face,

being with my family,

 being with other people's families,

being with the goodness of devoted friends.

Breezing by without a hitch,

the day began as a grumpy graduation,
but elevated itself to my favorite night,
of all time.

I was indeed delighted--
of this, I am sure.

Over.

I am not a lover of ceremony.  

In fact, ceremony makes me grumpy out of my mind.

I have learned, however, that sometimes in life you need ceremony, in order to put behind you what is behind, 

and in order to move ahead.

Hence, when I was confronted with the reality that it was indeed time to put the season of school and student-hood behind me, 

I faced that ceremony with grumpy aplomb,

and went ahead and graduated.

Accompanied by this favorite lady,

[appropriately, 

the one who has walked me through these past 6 years]

I made my way among a grand processional.

In fact,

I practically led said processional,

given my dear advisor's unfortunately broken ankle,
complete with scooter and alternative arrangements for escorting me across the stage.

We made our way to our reserved seats, 

and enjoyed together all that the moment held for us.

When it was time,

 I stood as new Doctors were acknowledged,

 received the hooding that made it official,

 the diploma that made it mine.

I walked the long pathway back to my seat,

and remembered the long road that brought me to this point.

I found that 

though I entered the place a normal woman,
I exited--

graduated.

I located my peeps,

 who'd sat through that long ceremony just to see me,

 [or, who'd run around that entire stadium, photographing me...]

 the ones who'd come to say that the ceremony meant something,

and that they supported me.

I smiled, soaked it in.  I found myself, grumpy-less.  

The ceremony had worked it's magic, I suppose, there to say:
The season is over...

...just like I was there to say,
without one smidgen of grumpy anywhere to be found:

It is over indeed.