November 21-22: This Relationship, Annual Observation, Mutual Friend

Finally Eddie said quietly, "I can see this relationship is something we're all going to have to work at," and the hatchway opened.

A little paragraph about Eddie, the on board computer of the Heart of Gold spaceship, who seems to be taking issue with some of its crew members.  Of course, Eddie is correct.  Relationships do require a LOT of work.

For those of you who are worried that I have withdrawn from public life, I have not.  I am still here, still willing to open up about what's happened these past two days.  I just haven't had the opportunity to sit down and reflect much.  I still don't have much time, because I'm pretty exhausted, and my mind is fading fast at the moment.

So, in brief, I survived the annual colleague observation of my teaching.  Per usual, it wasn't nearly as nerve-wracking as I thought it would be,  In fact, after about ten minutes, I almost forgot that my colleague was in the room, taking notes.  Every once in a while, I would glance over to see him writing in his notebook or watching what was going on intently.  After about an hour of listening to our discussion of the film Brokeback Mountain, he excused himself quietly.  When I got home after teaching, I e-mailed him, thanking him for taking the time to visit my class.  His response, which I received the next morning, was very kind and encouraging.  I don't think I have anything to worry about.

Yesterday evening, I did a whole lot of poetry stuff.  Went to a reading.  (Fantastic.)  Went to an open mic.  (Inspiring.)  I didn't get home until almost 10:45 p.m.  After being stressed out all week long, it was a welcome relief and fed my soul on a deep level, as poetry always does.  I returned to my house last night filled with the desire to write.  Haven't felt that pull for some time.  I think, this weekend, I will get some good work done in my journal.  Maybe a poem.  Maybe an essay.

At the end of a very long week, I sit here, at my kitchen table, thinking about all the people that I love deeply.  Wife.  Son.  Daughter.  Friends.  There are fallow and stormy seasons in relationships sometimes.  Times when the best you can do is say "I love you" and just leave it at that.  My semester of teaching is almost over.  A few more weeks, and it will simply be notations in a virtual grade book.  This week's observation will be a report submitted to the head of the English Department, words in a file.  And tonight will be this blog post, tapped out on a keyboard and then sent into the Internet ether.  Everything draws to a close.

I like to think that there is some kind of permanence in relationships with people you love.  That they will be more than a handful of poems or blog posts.  That their roots go deeper than that.  I hope.  I received a text message from a friend of mine an hour so ago.  It was about a mutual friend who I haven't seen in quite some time.  The message read, "He had no idea who I was.  I am so sad . . . this must be his new normal."

You know, all my stress over being observed in class this week seems pretty silly right now.  All I can think about is our friend--one of kindest, most loving individuals I've ever had the privilege to know.  Every once in a while, he'd call me on the phone with a joke or stop by my office with chocolate or a book he thought I'd like.  When we parted, he pretty much always said the same thing to me, "You take care, my friend, and tell those ladies I love them."  (The ladies were my coworkers from the Surgery Center where I used to be employed.)  This man's roots go deep in a lot of people.

Tonight, Saint Marty wants to say, "Take care, my friend.  Those ladies send you their love."