Dear Friends,
As adored and adorable as my granddaughters are, two full days of shopping, cooking and cleaning, to keep the traditions of Nowruz alive, in the heart of the Canadian winter, left me frazzled. As the Iranian hostess of an unenjoyable gathering would say, the fatigue stayed with my body. Especially since my three year-old granddaughter fell and hurt herself, just because her parents believe in "independence!"
Sometimes, I feel my Iranian roots are being weeded out by my two Canadianized sons and my Polish daughter-in-law and her family, without malice I'm sure.
"Why bother!" I told myself at eleven O'clock at night, while emptying the dishwasher for the third time. As my tired brain became incapacitated, hostile thoughts invaded my vulnerable mind and started questioning my life altogether. The so-so this, the unremarkable that, and a few very ordinary others, all pointed to one undeniably average life. Average might work well for the even-tempered, but not for the yo-yo me.
The night proved to be restless, full of inexplicable images and convoluted messages.
Sunday was spent in pyjamas, feeling inferior for living an ordinary life, void of grandeur, excitement and noble causes.
This morning, as I dragged my feet to work, still wallowing in self-pity, searching for ways to upgrade my existence, a cheerful voice brought me back to the street.
Regardless of what the media, the public or Bill 115 say, teaching is an extraordinary profession, otherwise a tenth-grader wouldn't have stopped to greet his grade one and two teacher, with a big smile on his still sleepy face. If all else fails, there will always be a student to remind me that there is nothing "average" about my life. Accepted and filed! What have you accepted and filed today?
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