Time To Fly

Last year, a very dear friend of mine stopped by my fiftieth birthday party. She brought me a bouquet of balloons. As we walked to the backyard to find a place to put my newly arrived decorations, we chatted about the years gone by. Summertime for teachers is the end of a fiscal year and tends to bring on reflection. Once we got to the back deck, it occurred to me that I could be a gracious host and offer my guest a beverage or a brownie or something festive. I tied the balloons to the rail of the deck and we went inside, just for a moment. When we came back, the casual knot that I had tied so casually had let loose and my birthday balloon bouquet was set adrift in the sunset. As I watched them go, I felt like crying, but too many trips around the sun and memories of how these things usually end told me to let them go. They were beautiful against the darkening sky.
That's what I thought about as I carried a great tub of books down the stairs of our school the other day. One of our first grade teachers is leaving. Not that she really wants to go. She has to. Her family is relocating in southern California, and the choice between job and family was a simple one, even if it might cause a little heartbreak. Mine. She's been here for nine years, and has made a difference in hundreds of children's lives. She's made a difference in my life. She's there in the mornings. She's there in the afternoons. She was a fixture at all those crazy interludes we called parties at Christmas and at the end of the year. She knew how to have a good time.
And now that good time is hitting the road. I reflected on the number of teachers who have come and gone since I first got to this school. It's summertime, time for reflection. I thought of those balloons, so light and fun, so thoughtful and appreciated. And how it was time for them to fly.