The Amaryllis Seems to Understand the Intricacies of a Home, Always Blooming at Precarious Times As If It Knows More Than We Do

In 2015, as Chitunga and I were ready to move into our new digs from Nichols Avenue, one of the first things we brought inside was an amaryllis plant, simply because it had never bloomed before, yet it bloomed right before we brought it to Mt. Pleasant. She exploded.

Yesterday, when I got home from Stamford, I noticed she was at it again. Tunga was on his way over, too, choosing to spend the night at home and hanging with Kris, Dave, Isaiah, Ish, and me (a wonderful night by the fire). I put it in the front window, after a day of bonding, good conversations, and necessary processing. Not pictured here is the smaller bloom that is behind this one. I'm not sure if she knows the changes of late, but it's as if she wanted to say, "Yo. Chill out, Crandall. I'm still here. It's all good."

Sunday was a day spent planning, creating, grading, and organizing for the week ahead, as we're in the last stretch of the semester. I also prepped food for the week, cleaned, and finished listening to Not Light, But Fire by Mathew Kay. It is one of the best books for in-class conversations and dialogues I've ever read...if not the best. Of course, I listened to it, cursing that I didn't read it so I could take notes. It's not even the content as much as the absolute brilliance, class, authority, and humanity of the author who simply gets kids, gets teaching, and continues to grow. 

Meanwhile, the Sunday prompt from #verselove, EthicalELA, was to explore the labels and peel them off. The goal was to list all the things you get called and then work with them to build strength and to claim who you are. It's awkward to think about me as a subject and to go in such directions, simply because I've never really cared what others think, and know I'm most critical and judgmental of myself. Either way, another poem was born: #25.