Cement Girl

2005

I realized the other day that even though I'm pretty sentimental and reflective I haven't written anything about 2005 as a whole yet. I know I'm really predictable and I feel like such a dork for doing this, but I need to.

2005 was an incredibly odd year, and not just because it's two thousand and FIVE (bad, bad joke). I ended 2004 in a Christmas break anticipating 3 months in Mexico. I spent the first couple of weeks in January making too many trips to Target to stock up on things and hanging out willy nilly (yes I just said willy nilly) with my friends who, unfortnuately, had to start school. I spent one last night hanging out with a few close friends at a resaturant, and I said goodbye to my Rainier house lovelies. I drove away that night crying. My parents drove me to Mexico, stayed for a night, said goodbye and left me there in my own tiny apartment.

I cried a lot that night. I knew that staying and working in Mexico was something I desperately needed to do, yet I was scared. I don't think I knew what I was scared about, because I'm pretty sure I didn't realize for a week that I was 1000 miles away from anything familiar. I spent the next 10 weeks pushing kids on swings (empujame, americana!), eating lots of beans and rice and tortillas, and spending a lot of time by myself. I had so much alone time, it's incredible now to think how I lived such a simple life with books, a guitar I didn't really know how to play, a piano, and a journal. I completed two independent courses and learned more about the history of Mexico and the development of children than I could probably learn in any classroom.

I came back and many people asked "did you have a good time?" and I would smile and nod and say "very good." but the questions never went beyond that. Sometimes I would start talking all about it but I could tell that the person who asked began to wonder why they even asked in the first place.

I cam back and lived with my parents, worked, and then moved into Rainier house. Of course then a couple weeks later we moved to Tabor House and found ourselves amid boxes. It was my first summer living on campus, with my friends, and it was awesome. Here's a lesson for everyone: If you set a goal for yourself, and live in a way to make that goal into being, it will happen. Tabor House decided we needed ample seating because we were going to be popular this year. "We are going to be popular this year" we stated proudly. We like to think we've seen this into fruition.

This summer I also met a family to nanny for who is just awesome. John was 4 months old when I started watching him, and hearing his mom saying confidently "we are so happy we found you. we trust you so much" is a thrilling thing.

Classes started in August and I had to stop playing around and get down to serious business with school work and pre-student teaching. A work sample is actually not that hard. Teaching science to third graders is. Especially experimental, hands-on science. I was extremely nervous walking into that classroom. I hadn't spent a good amount of time in a classroom since the Spring of 2004. I turned into Ms. Scott. I also turned into an accordion player thanks to Natalie. I used to make fun of accordion players. Now I have so much respect for them.. it's hard! I can't believe that of all the instruments I've tried to learn the accordion comes to me pretty naturally and easily. It's actually kind of creepy. I would have never chosen the accordion.

Something happened this last fall with my faith that I'm not sure how to explain. We started our small church, which functions like a small Bible study. We're all very frank with each other and we started asking a lot of questions and exploring the Bible. Everything kind of threw me for a loop and paired with the decision my parents were making, to move to Mexico, I spent a lot of time crying in late September through October and some of November. I can't even explain the emotions behind the Bible stuff, but although I've gotten past the frustration and crying, I'im still very confused.

In early December my second niece, Dana, was born. I wasn't there for the birth and didn't get to see her until Christmas. I spent a glorious few days with her and my other niece (and oh yeah, my brother and sister in law as well). I think the most magical 30 minutes of my last year (or life?) were spent in the early morning with 2 1/2 year old Hannah waking up and coming to snuggle with me on the couch. She reached out her hand to my cheek and said "I like you". As I laid there pretending to sleep she stroked my cheek as a mother watches over a baby. I nearly started crying.

I look back on how I ended 2004 and compare it to how I ended 2005, and I'm in awe of what has transpired over that time. The books I've read have opened up so many things to me. I've made a bunch of new friends.

Sometime in the last year I've changed a lot of plans for my future. Sometime in the last few months I wrote about how number 1 choices on the "Goals for life" list get pushed to the second place spot. I wondered if the number 2 choices become number 1 choices because number 1 choices are no longer desirable or attainable, or because number 2 choices become that much more beautiful. Maybe both. Maybe neither. Last January I was sure I was graduating and teaching in the Portland area, with my family surrounding me. My parents have decided to sell everything and move to Mexico, my brother enlisted in the Air National Guard, I might be teaching overseas next year. Portland will always be my hometown, but in the future it may not be my home base. My next 5 or 6 months will be spent trying to pare down my belongings to fit into a huge rubbermaid container and store in some extraneous closet. Everything's happening so fast I'm not sure I can keep up.