Two weeks is a long time to disappear in Blogland.
Two weeks is a long time at our house.
In that fortnight, much has transpired:
DD#1 became a licensed driver and drove her senior self to her last first day of school.
DD#2 went to high school.
Big Red helped a friend clean up when flash flooding destroyed their chicken houses. (80,000+ dead chickens--a sight I admit I'm glad I didn't see.)
Three students came to my class who speak no inglés . Zero. Zip. Nada.
I speak no español. Zero. Zip. Nada.
A car salesman rambled on to us about what a "sweet gig" teachers have.
I offered him a chance to try it during my third period class.
Two weeks can be a long time.
Long, with a kaleidoscope of emotions and free-falling changes.
I read The Light in the Window all the way through for probably the 100th time,
put up six quarts of squash and picked okra,
watched Anne of Avonlea,
baked a peach cobbler.
Two weeks is long enough
for my blogging insecurities to bubble to the surface,
for the loneliness and longing of the writing to push at me,
for answered prayer and for more waiting.