And Then I Remember

 This. This is why I teach. For three years she’s been in my class. She has gotten married. Had a baby. But she still can’t decode words. She still struggles with basic sentences. I know she has more going on in her mind than Bambara and Mali and motherhood, but I haven’t found a way to reach this girl. I haven’t been able to communicate with her in a way to help her understand. But “reliving” 1880s farm chores today, she said, “I got this. We do this in my country.” And today, today, today, she was the best at something. This. This is #whyiteach
 
 

Bricklaying

yesterday we learned about sod
 and homesteaders’ dreams being trampled by wind and hail and no water
 and how they were tricked into
 settling on free land.
 
 nothing is free.
 
 how they built brick by sod brick–
 tiny houses not much taller than themselves,
 and posed in front with shovels on the roof,
 no time to take them down for the picture–
 for what if it rained, or a snake crept in?
 
 yesterday i thought i was a teacher,
 and they were learning from me,
 my immigrant students building up their vocabulary
 brick by decoded brick.
 
 nothing is ever what it seems.
 
 today they entered and i asked them to write:
 describe challenges when you moved to a new place.
 
 and with the new words fresh on her tongue, she told me:
 just like the homesteaders,
 my family had to move to a new camp
 and my father had to build a sod house,
 no taller than that one in the picture.

 
 and so my student taught today’s lesson:
 one hundred fifty years later,
 we are still making bricks
 instead of trying to break them.
 
 
 

Eighteen Years as Us

Numbers for our weekend: Bruce turned 39, our marriage turned 18, we hiked 25 miles, gained 4520 feet in elevation, endured 100 or more stream crossings, 4 thunderstorms, 50 fallen trees, and carried 80 pounds of food, equipment, and water. We reached our limit halfway through yesterday, but marriage is continuous–we chose the loop trail just like we chose each other 18 years ago. And we’ll keep hiking, helping each other cross streams, build shelters, cook meals, and climb mountains, till the last limit of our lives. Happy anniversary!
 
 

Backpacker’s Dream/Dilemma

we strike the trail late
 met by an abundant blue
 (clouds can keep secrets)
 


lunch is disrupted 
 by stream-crossing detours
 (till we see our fault)
 


then comes rain and pain
 realizing we were tricked
 (the trail is longer)
 


camp set up quickly
 dinner wolfed, shoes soaked by grass
 (thunder moving in)
 
 hours in the tent
 thinking, how could it, why now?
 (tests of our marriage)
 


but the bag is warm
 and we have love and shelter
 (all a marriage needs)

Day Twenty-Seven, Road Trip 2016

road trip starts to end
 with wide open river views,
 bridges to cross them
 
 


Kentucky burns bright
 holds together rebel groups
 and holds our heart tight

Day Twenty-Two, Road Trip 2016

our cycle closes

 with a capital bike ride

and a pointed view


with paths everywhere 

this city has won my heart

even in the heat


where honor presides

through a symmetrical stroll

of fallen soldiers


DC mixes all:

museums, monuments, paths

marking past; future.


we find ourselves here

remembering our lost dreams

in these reflections

Day Twenty, Road Trip 2016

in the man’s big house
 they built him a three-room suite;
 his children lived here:
 


remnants of slave life:
 hard-hitting and far-reaching
 (Black Lives Matter. Now?)
 
 they dug up red clay
 to lay every brick … by brick,
 by breaking their backs
 


his famous status:
 founder of freedom, writer
 (declared our country)
 


brick by brick by brick
 he laid his lies and kept his slaves
 and wrote our future
 


and we swallow it
 and throw coins at his gravestone
 and try to forgive
 


they all shared this view–
 from the big house; the slave house;
 the land formed by God
 


and so we move on,
 brick by brick by road by road
 to see its beauty

Day Thirteen, Road Trip 2016 (Traveling Truths)

forts can be pretty
 and with alligator moats
 quite exciting, too
 

 hobbit holes exist
 if you travel far enough
 to open your eyes
 

 cousin love binds us
 just as beaches and waves do
 under our shared sky
 

 biking brings beauty
 along every road we ride
 from mountains to coast
 

Day Eleven, Road Trip 2016

oldest Florida site
 enthralls us like we’re in Spain
 (memories abound)
 


coquina fortress
 built on the sweat from slaves’ backs
 (engineering feat)
 
 


defense of this sight:
 gleaming harbor colony
 (worth the protection)
 


a dogged day’s drive
 at the end of this journey
 (worth the distraction)
 
 


history, not mice:
 Florida is more than Disney
 (all they need to know)
 
 

Day Ten, Road Trip 2016

from a fighting ride
 to playing dolls on the beach;
 camp beauty parlor
 


love my travelers–
 though they bicker and complain–
 the road unites them
 
 only each other
 to entertain, love, and learn
 making their journey
 
 under this bright moon
 as it waxes our return
 to everywhere home