The Month Of May

May is a pretty confusing month for me.

It's the last month of the school year. So that's an easy one.
Score.

It's the month our youngest son was born.
Double score.

Mother's Day, Memorial Day, and Cinco de Mayo (for which only Americans "celebrate").
Score, score, and (kinda?) score.

It's also the month we bid farewell to a tiny one we never got to meet. It's the month of my dad's birthday that no longer carries the need for a phone call to the local radio station. And, tying in with that last one, it's the month he received a diagnosis that was so detrimental, I can tell you where I was and what I was wearing when I received the call.

There is no scoring on either one of those. Three days in May that are, indeed, rather depressing... not that we're keeping score.

(lol?)

Recap?

Let's start with the end of the school year. I have often wondered why "Teacher Appreciation Week" is part of the month of May. Trust me, in May, every teacher is good. Tired. Exhausted. Completely over every kid in the class, but good. The end is in the sight. Lesson plans are a formality in which we're not even sure anyone is paying attention. Grades are merely a last-ditch effort for saving that one kid from summer school. We are seriously just going through the motions... much like that last week before Christmas Break. Teacher Appreciation Day/Week/Month (however you wanna roll) should fall somewhere in that post-Christmas, January-apocalypse, February-praying-to-the-snow-gods* calendar pit where you re-evaluate your life choices and momentarily contemplate teaching in the penitentiary** just to ease the mind-numbing reality of being surrounded by students who already think they're in spring break while still complaining of freezing, mid-50s temperatures.***

(I apparently had to get that off my chest).

On to our youngest son. {Sigh} We have been blessed beyond measure. To brag on one would be to brag on all three. Each one brings us great joy... this one just happens to have a birthday in May.

Mother's Day. Memorial Day. Cinco de Mayo. Each one nothing more than a reason to eat, drink, and be merry (although the meaning of the first two is so much more understood than the latter). Lucky for you, however, I am in no mood for a history lesson today.

May 5, 1995. The day we said good-bye to the one who surely bore the trademark red hair. We'll leave that with no more. It hurts too much to ponder and life does move on. Some day we will meet again and even so, our cup overflows. I have never asked why.

May 7, 1947. May 23, 2014. What would mark the beginning for my dad and the totally unnecessary detour that marked his ending date. Again, we'll not camp out here, but for entirely different reasons. If I ask why on anything, this will be the one.

You see, I feel like he could have saved me from so much. He had a way of asking questions without really asking questions. I remember when I told him that I had agreed to move his beloved grandchildren (and let's not forget me) nine-hundred miles away. He never questioned me. Never told me I shouldn't. Just said keep this in mind and be sure you think about this. He and my mom both set the perfect example of how not to interfere, but simply let grown ups make grown-up decisions, even if it went against their very desire. A line of thinking totally way off base (for this particular entry) and most likely better reserved for the posthumous So-That's-What-She-Really-Wanted-To-Say! book.

Even so. The thread of my being holds true.

I'm in an upside-down world;
A conundrum of sorts.

Beautiful, confusing, hopeful.
A riddle yet to be solved.

Much like the month of May.

* I do not believe in snow gods. I believe in the one true God (although I have been known to agree to a "snow/ice dance" with one particular parent).

** I have no doubt these are great positions with excellent benefits and students motivated to learn. No offense intended. Seriously. Hook me up.

*** I, too, think that mid-50s are entirely too cold and every effort should be made to locate an electrical socket for the plug-in blanket I keep on stand-by no matter where I go.

And, finally, although I was weary of asterisks, if I ever do write a book, it'll be a doozy. You can bet every teacher's end-of-the-year smile on that one.