all the same old things have been happening. school, that’s all. homework and tests and grades and college apps and essays.
but our government teacher wasn’t here last week.
our economics teacher organized us, and then told us that she had lost her baby.
it was a terrible, almost casually dropped sort of bomb. she’d told us before about how the baby was due in spring or so next year, which was when her APUSH kids would be reviewing for their AP test and when we would be prepping for our final days of gov review, but it was okay, she could handle it all, although she and her husband still needed to convince their son, who wanted a little brother, that having another baby meant he still had to love it even though it was another little sister.
i can’t imagine how disturbingly empty so many parts of the future must seem when a space had already been hollowed out for another life.
today she came back and she seemed very, very tired. she told us the precise day and time her daughter was born and she told us her name, Cecelia Hope. and she was… perfect. and so… small. there was so much love in her face and in her voice. she looked so lost and almost childish and innocent, which is strange to imagine in a teacher, somehow, because you just never think about personal things like this happening to teachers for some reason, which sounds heartless, but when it happens to anyone all you can do is be stunned at how much hurt someone can/has to carry inside, because you never imagine it happening to anyone, ever, because it really shouldn’t. it seems unfathomable. loss and death are unfathomable. grief and pain are so unreal and so distant and so close–too close.
she works too hard. she should have stayed home and rested… she looks so tired and fragile.
tomorrow i’m going to vote for the first time in my life. i would feel terrible if i didn’t, since she’s so passionate about citizen participation in politics and government.