pipe dreams

August 19, 2021

Tonight, another post in the series of memories coming to mind these days, from my time in Afgh@nistan . . .

pipe dreams

It’s been one of those days [or weeks, more accurately] when each baby step I manage to take forward seems counteracted by a gust of the elements that lands me 10 steps back. Between the mountain of schoolwork that grows on my to-do list, the harshness of the winds that blow and the snow that falls, and the logistical hardships of failing practicalities [the luxury of running water dying a frozen-piped death, for instance], I just can’t seem to give myself enough attitude-checks to stay positive.
So when I spied this abandoned work station one roof over from my own, it was comforting in a paradoxical sort of way. A project had begun here, with red pail and water bottle, and then been left to summon me and my camera for a closer glimpse at the gleaming color amidst our wintery hues. I imagined that the harsh winds and coming snow had thrown a worker off the intended task. Maybe not. But the idea gives me comfort when my own daily tasks grow daunting. Today, the brilliance of this bucket symbolizes the hope that all is not lost. That I shall get done the things that need to get done. That I shall not be too quick-tempered when students try my patience. That I shall be able to impart something worthwhile with the moments that fill the schooldays . . . that Spring shall come before Winter conquers us.

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