February 12, 2020

One of our mummies died today. I am sad. I have no details, but her story is not mine to tell, so I will not share it. 

My story is that I chatted with her. I have hugged her. I love her children. I sat in sadness with her loving team, halfway up the mountain; we waffled in and out of silence, planning our day, drinking tea, remembering her, feeling sick for her children, cheering each other forward. 

My story is that our afterschool group needed picking up, and I made chicken curry with some of them, did the dishes, told jokes, and listened to their understandings of Tik-Tok, school suspension, art, and each other. My sadness was put on hold long enough to experience some respite, and I was given the gift of time with children who, in those moments together, were happy. 

Tonight I’ll give myself some space, and go to bed early. Tomorrow more mummies and children will come; I will chat with them, hug them, and fall more in love with the children. And, I will hope for the best. 

Published by brooklyntobelfast

I'm a special education preschool teacher in New York, lucky enough to be given a year of sabbatical. I'm heading to Belfast to learn from colleagues, and take it all back home with me. I also happen to have my dog with me.

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