Made It

And so we made it. All the way to Thanksgiving break. It shouldn't be a surprise. The world keeps turning and the pages of the calendar keep falling off, making a mess of the floor beneath the calendar. Coming soon to a floor beneath that calendar: Winter.
It's a cycle. I get it. Fifty-five changes of season and there are still rises and falls in this great big circle. Each group of trick or treaters and every fireworks show. Birthday wrapping paper gets cleaned up in time for the Christmas tinsel to get ground into the carpet. Holiday meals are prepared, consumed and the nice plates are put away for another occasion. Whatever that is.
Now I teach. In a public school, and the rises and falls are well-worn ruts that make creases through modern American life. Before that, I worked in a book warehouse. My life took the shape of the UPS calendar. I worked when UPS worked. That's how we planned our wedding, once upon a time. The first of August was after our annual inventory and before the first wave of holiday orders started pouring in. I was back from my honeymoon in plenty of time for that.
It was the death of my father that put a crimp in my otherwise stellar attendance record. I knew that the day after Thanksgiving was going to be an explosion of retail fun and it was up to my crack staff of  book schleppers to stuff boxes full of new books to fill up the shelves of stores that needed what we had. It was my duty to be there to be sure that those orders went out on time.
And I missed it. Because I was in another state. I was attending to other matters. Before I could climb back into the ring with the whole American Free Enterprise system, I had to scatter the ashes of my father.
When I returned, the warehouse was still running along. I limped through the rest of the holiday season, and by the next spring, I was getting ready to leave the warehouse to start my career as a teacher. And buy a house. And have a son. And for the next twenty years, public education would shape the waves of my life. Summer vacations allow me to celebrate my anniversary. Thanksgiving break allows me to notice the seasons change and count the rings on the tree. The tree we planted on the front lawn. The one we hang lights on every winter. At our house. The one we bought with a down payment that came from the insurance money we got for joining the dead dad club.
So we made it. To another Thanksgiving break. Now can I get some help with all these calendar pages?