End of a semester. End of an era. My smiling mask of self confidence, of confidence-projecting, of being reassuring has wound down to a needle tip. Sat at this desk for 14 months, rising to the occasion of teaching remotely. Three semesters of little grey rectangles talking with me and me with them.
They rose to the challenge and so have I.
And I’m fried!
No idea what I want to do or where I want to be. It’ll be a mini period of soul searching, prayer and, ultimately, regrouping.
I feel like a lot of me is gone.
I am nostalgic.
I am not sure why I am still looking out that 12-pane window. It looks over three blocks and an international bridge and then to Juárez, then, if the earth didn’t curve and I had an infinity setting, all the way to Tierra del Fuego.
It calls me. There is really almost nothing behind.
We shall see. I hope to see again.
But why do I even try to say all that?
Everything I am, Dylan has been saying for me for 61 years… and he’s saying it again… simply put… I contain multitudes.
