I know it's May when the 5th graders are as tall as I am. One by one they start to discover the shocking truth, they could not see before. They exclaim in the halls, library and in quiet voices in stuffy classrooms,
"Mrs. K. You are...you are...(hard swallow) short."
And no matter how I explain growth charts and normal body progressions at their age, they are incessant that I am the one who has shrunk in the past school year. My being little-- a vertically sized 5th grader (at the beginning of the year)--is a let-down in so many ways.
But we move on in the cause of public education.
I know it's May when I spend most of my time in the backyard on the blanket my mother-in-law made me. I like to listen to Chris Isaak Baja Sessions and pretend I am in Northern Mexico in some dusty town sweltering in desert heat. It's true, I fantasize about heat, having my toes sweat. Ralphy loves to lie on the blanket with me. Occasionally he licks my face and neck. I hate it. But it's May so it quickly dries and I can get back to dreaming of warm toes, long days and waiting for my lucky day.
I know it's May when The Prof gets motorcycle madness. He started his HUGE machine yesterday and took me for a ride around the block to wave at neighbors. I like to lean my head on his back and watch the houses go by. Such was the case on our first date --we rode to the lake, stopped for an ice cream and up on the hill to see the sun say good night to our busy town. The one thing The Prof remembers about that day was my head on his back. That's when, he says, he started to like me.
I know it's May when I can generously wear my flip flops and cotton skirts everyday. When I want to eat less and drink more. When I want to throw parties and decorate my house. When I want to stay up late watching engaging movies with my husband (discussions follow.) When I can hang my colorful lanterns on the backporch. When I feel my body thaw and my spirit sprite.
Welcome Back May.
P.S. Happy Blogger Birthday to those of us who started a year ago this month. Time flies when you are having strangers read your life stories.