And so we inch. And inch a little more. My mind and plans full of ways to approach the school year ahead. But in the meantime, there are hazy days that enevelope us on the beach. There are naps and movies. There’s an inch back towards a normalized bedtime. We inch closer to an older space in time, and to a different kind of freedom. A freedom in learning, an addition of many teachers. An inch closer to kids growing to be creative thinkers, wonderers, artists, teachers, and activists of the world. Not only in my arms or in my site. There is someone there to pick up my failing parts. My imature parts. My parts that are puzzled and scattered that I can not give, for I have not learned yet.
“It has become a common feeling, I believe, as we have watched our heroes falling over the years, that our own small stone of activism, which might not seem to measure up to the rugged boulders of heroism we have so admired, is a paltry offering toward the building of an edifice of hope. Many who believe this choose to withhold their offerings out of shame.
This is the tragedy of our world.
For we can do nothing substantial toward changing our course on the planet, a destructive one, without rousing ourselves, individual by individual, and bringing our small, imperfect stones to the pile.
In this regard, I have a story to tell.”
― Alice Walker, Anything We Love Can Be Saved
