A Radical Sabbatical

Today in Anatomy the Professor rambled about the grades on our papers.  She stated there was a bit of a curve as one of the questions was misinterpreted by everyone but two students.  So she gave everyone the points.  She also explained that the average of the class was 80, there were two 100 grades and that we should now be able to pull off the rest of the semester and know how she gives tests.

I wasn’t the least bit nervous until I noticed the girl next to me got a 100 as did her boyfriend who sits next to her on the other side.  Hmmm, maybe I should have glanced at her paper during the test?  My paper was delivered to me as the Professor called out my name.  My heart took five steps into my rectum and then it took seven steps back up into my chest.  I got a 75 and I could not be happier.  I was thrilled beyond belief. 

Who would have guessed that my first time back into the classroom after 30 years, two childbirths, a growth spurt in the wrong areas and some antidepressants, that I could remember anything beyond inspiration and expiration?  WOW is all I can say. 

As we reviewed more chapters, more words, more diagrams,  I suddenly realized, this is so not easy.  I almost wished I could drop out of the class at this point and not have to worry about memorizing all the parts of the face and larynx for the next quiz.  Something is so lost when all you do is learn in order to take a test.  You lose the significance and the meaning of all thats necessary to understand the field you want to go into. 

In anycase, as we were told to pass our homeworks to the front of the room for collection.  The homework was for us to draw or sketch the posterior and anterior of the larynx as well as listing the cartlidges.  I noticed the girl next to me had made a very pretty and colorful diagram of the larynx with all the proper labels.   I looked at my work, and all I had done was traced it onto a piece of paper, no colored pencils used, no fancy calligraphy.  Just plain ole lines.  Hmmm,  I guess brown nosing it hasn’t changed in the last thirty years. 

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I can’t say that everyday feels like a weekend because it doesn’t.  I spend a great deal of time studying and enjoy the reading.  But weekdays are clearly still weekdays on this sabbatical and weekends are very much a time for me to make time for studying and relaxing.

Today, Ed and I went to the Botanical Gardens as the weather was a beautiful 81 degrees.  Needless to say, I couldn’t help but smell the roses that were still in bloom.  Some smelled like lemons, others smelled like fresh gardened roses.  The scent relaxed me and its been a long time since I stopped to smell the roses.  The expression certainly means exactly as it states.

Our lives are so busy that we forget to stop and do the simple things that are right here in front of us.  The same thing with laughter, love, hugs, compliments and just turning to the person you love and giving them a smile.  It can make such a big difference in someones day.

We are becoming so automated and removed from the human touch that we don’t slow down until something goes terribly wrong.  Life is very, very precious.  I don’t mean to sound philophical but we take life, every bit of it, for granted.  Yes, we all know we’re going to die one day but we don’t act as though we may die one day.  We act immortal.

One day last week, a neighbors husband was working on his roof.  A hobby he had taken up over the years. The house was an ongoing project as it is for many of us.  He enjoyed working on his house and this was just another day doing what he enjoyed doing.  Yet, something went terribly wrong.  We’ll never know exactly what happened, whether he lost his balance or felt ill or whatever it was.   He fell off that roof  and hit the ground, and in an instant, his life, his families’ lives and his friends lives changed.  His life, snuffed out quicker than the speed of light.  Or at least faster than one could imagine.  I can’t imagine the pain this family is going through and it makes me feel so terribly sad when someones life is cut short.

Did he tell his children he loved them that morning? Did he hug his wife and hold her close.  Did his daughter ask for the car keys and give him a big smile?  Did he stop to smell the roses that grow in his yard? It’s all so terribly painful to know that he died so tragically.

So, today when I told my children I loved them in a slightly different tone, and gave my husband a special hug, and gave my friends a serious smile, no one may have noticed the change, but I felt the need to stop, think and feel connected and smell the variety of roses that come across my path today.

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