As the end of the school year draws near, while most people are preparing for a season of laziness and bliss, shopping for swim suits and flip flops, the little hair that remains on my head turns whiter by the day. I am in full panic mode at work and can't seem to find enough time to accomplish the things that desperately need to get done. It doesn't help, of course, that this is also the time of year when I receive the most threats of death and violence to either myself or my car. Students attempting to sell their books back to the bookstore tend to get unhappy when I can't offer them more than they actually paid for the books. Most of the time I laugh it off, pop a few Xanex and go merrily about my day. Ah, the joy of working at a bookstore.About the only thing that gets me through is knowing I get to unwind with Duncan at the park or down Leawood, or even Lilley Gulch. Prior to walking with him I'd come home, sit on the couch or the floor and brood over all my perceived failures. Now I'm able to cast them aside and re-tune myself. And as the weather gets nicer and the last of the snow and mud pull off the foothills I hope to take him for nice evening strolls up Ken Caryl Canyon. But until then I'm content with playing at The Glen, weaving through the various soccer practices in the fields across the street and admiring the lake from the top of Rebel Hill.
Today we climbed the hill overlooking the lake and just sat. It took most of the walk to let go of the tension but once we were there the sunset was vast and gold and all the world seemed amazing and full of magic. I'm convinced that work is a magic-free zone and if I can only make it through my time there the mountains, the warm air, the gentle scuff of Duncan's paws on the sidewalk and in the grass will be magic enough to rejuvenate me. Laying on my back and taking pictures of clouds sometimes does the trick too, especially when Duncan leans into frame to sneak a kiss.
