Living my luck

This week my students are writing to me from all around the world—from Warsaw, Poland, from Jeju Island, from Mexico.  (They are in China, too, and on the high seas dancing; they are in the Philippines and doing an in-service project in Florida.)  It's their spring break, and I am awed by the places they go, the things they see, the way their lives unfold.  I am grateful for their goodness, for their presence in my life.

This evening, my own son takes the long bus ride home; we will have him near for ten days.  I try to clear my desk of the work that is here (even as more floats in).  I plan for his nearness, his stories, his laugh. Never enough time—never.  But this time, at least.

And this is luck, I think—my son, these kids, this life.  And this is me living my luck best as I can.