Walk Two Moons

My teacher friends back in Christiansburg will remember that as the title to my favorite children's book. I read that book to every single class of fifth graders I ever taught. It's a beautiful story and I usually am unable to talk about it without dramatically bursting into tears. And considering my hormones seem to be at an all time, sky rocketing, high, I think we will skip the plot synopsis for right now. But I think it will be safe for me to tell you that the title - Walk Two Moons - is a reference to living a compassionate life. Trying to understand someone before you criticize them. I'm not very good at it.

That's what I'd like to tell you about today.

Lately I've been thinking about a woman I'll call Jane. She was the secretary at Christiansburg Elementary when I started teaching there 13 years ago. She was the spunkiest, kindest, most energetic, fun loving person you would ever want to meet. And the kids - and most of the teachers - worshipped her. She was game to participate in any goofy PTA program. She was often heard singing to students who were sick. She was there before anyone else and stayed until dark. It was obvious to all of us that she loved her job - and was willing to go the extra mile for anyone in our little school community.

About three years after I started, Jane met a man. She fell in love. And before you knew it, she was getting married and planning to move to North Carolina. Of course, we were all devastated - as was she - at the thoughts of her leaving. But when August came, and school started again, Jane was gone. And we never heard one word from her ever again.

At the time - and in the years since - I have wondered what happened to Jane. Was she SO wrapped up in her fabulous new life that she forgot all about us? Were we really not that important to her after all? She had left such a mark on our school. How could she so easily just walk away from all of us? She never even sent me a thank you note for the wedding shower gift I gave her. She just disappeared. I thought she was disingenuous.

In the past few months I've wished I could give Jane a call and tell her I get it now. Because I do - now that I've lived almost the exact same situation. I worked at that school for 13 years. Worked hard. Gave lots of time - in many cases, too MUCH time - to that school. The people who worked there were my second family. The community knew me - liked me - supported me. And what did I do? I picked up and walked away in June and I haven't looked back.

But Lord, have I wanted to. Every day - at some point in the day - I have this sudden urge to grab my purse and go. To see my friends. Go back to my classroom. Reclaim my place. Rejoin my community. But I can't. This is where I have to be now. And in order to protect myself from an unbearable crush of fear and loneliness, I haven't gone back. I haven't written emails. I haven't even called my dearest, closest friends.

I hope they will forgive me.

You see, I find that I must distance myself to stay sane. To hear your voices is almost painful. To read your emails is a reminder of the warmth and love that surrounded me every day I lived in Chrstiansburg. I pretend you aren't there, still living your lives - because if you aren't there, I can't miss you. And heaven help me, do I miss you. Most of all, though - I think I miss who I am when I am with you. Because I haven't found that person here in Richmond yet.

So Jane, wherever you are - I'm sorry I ever judged you for your absence. Now that I've walked two moons in your moccasins, I understand it. All too well.

I love you, friends.