Sometimes we just need a break. I came to this epiphany following quite a week. Personally and professionally, it had been. A. Week. Busy, busy, busy. And utterly exhausting.
Work-wise, it was conference week. Three days of meetings to discuss achievement, concerns, and set goals. Sandwiched around an abbreviated teaching day (in which we try to accomplish some serious learning).
I truly enjoy parent-teacher conferences. Each meeting is an opportunity to sit with the most invested stakeholders, the parents, and be reminded we’re in this together. All of us sitting at the table want the same thing; the best year for the child. As our 20 minute meeting progresses, the love parents feel for their children fills the room. I’m reminded of precisely why I’ve chosen this career.
During my last conference of day two, my cell phone rang. The parent asked if I needed to get the phone, her conference had run long. “No,” I said. It could wait. When I checked my phone, I saw my younger daughter had called. Needless to say, her calling mid-week is out of the ordinary. She’s our Friday night or Saturday morning caller. Nothing more than a texter mid-week.
I called my daughter back the moment the parent left. She was upset. She’d had an accident, was injured. The university doctor said a week away from school would be the best thing for her healing.
She’d been in a car accident in high school and suffered a horrible injury. I knew the importance of swift treatment. I shifted from teacher to parent, went into action mode. We needed to get our kid home as soon as possible, have her seen by her primary doctor. The following 24 hours were a whirlwind. After a jam-packed day of work, my husband and I made the 500 mile trip to fetch our daughter and bring her home to start the healing process.
Our doctor confirmed what the university doctor had said. She needed rest. And nothing else. No screens or media were permitted. No television watching, no book reading, no podcast or music listening. She needed quiet rest. While she napped and snuggled with the dog, I cleaned, did laundry and tried to stay quiet.
Outside our cozy little house, it was storming. I was beginning to feel dark, unsettled like the weather.
I tried to stay quietly busy. I roasted a chicken, filled the house with the comforting smells of home. We carved pumpkins to place on the stoop to welcome trick or treaters. But still, I felt less than great.
Sunday morning the sun rose and the yellow leaves swayed in the breeze. The outside was calling.
“We should forest bathe,” I said to my daughter.
“What?” she asked.
“Go for a walk in the woods,” I clarified. “Take a hike.”
“Definitely,” she agreed.
We loaded the dog into the car and headed for woods. It had been a few years since we’d hiked here, a favorite from days ago when the kids were small, the dog was a puppy. As we made our way onto the path, my daughter and I chatted, reminisced about time spent here with friends. We took in the beauty of the woods, noticed the loamy soil below our feet.
We made our way along the familiar path. Out of nowhere, an enormous Labrador came barreling towards us, barking, tail wagging. “He’s friendly,” a woman called, running to catch up. We introduced our dogs, chatted for a moment then continued on our walks.
With each step, my tension dissipated, was replaced with feelings of peace. And a true sense of gratitude. Gratitude for the beauty of nature, the opportunity to get away from it all minutes from my house, the gift of walking with my nearly grown daughter and just be. In the company of nature and other solace seekers.
As we made our way around the trail, a bright object caught my eye. Then another. Hand painted kindness rocks children had left beside the path. Pink and orange and purple reminders of goodness. Hope. Optimism. Healing.
The rocks decorated with fluorescent paint and children’s handwriting shifted our moods, buoyed us. We made our way back towards the road, met another dog walker. “Is he friendly?” the man called. “He is,” I shouted back. Once again, dog introductions were made, wishes for a good walk exchanged.
And just like that, the magic of the woods had shifted everything. I was reminded of the gifts of quiet, connection, and gratitude available to each of us.
©Kathie Z.