Slice of Life Day # 24: Something Horrible, Something Wonderful and Something Small

It was the worst of times, it was the best of times. It was a time of almost certain death, it was a time of rejuvenation. It was a time of horrendous pain, it was a time of joyful remembrance. 

Can you tell I love Dickens' A Tale of Two Cities? Because of my fondness for his novel, I should probably ask his forgiveness for my awful imitation but it fit my day yesterday.

Warning: If your nature is a bit squeamish, you might want to scroll down to the text below the photo of the three old women...

I began by heading to a writing event for students. As I was driving down a four-lane street, I spotted a squirrel smack-dab in the middle of my lane. There was no other car around... I could have swerved to change lanes, but this happens all the time. Squirrels are quick-moving and wily, capable of evading a car's tires with incredible skill. 

So I didn't change lanes. I figured that while I roared hummed down the street, nothing horrible would happen. I would gaze into my rear view mirror and see nothing... and realize nothing terrible had happened.

But that's not what happened. Bump. The squirrel had not managed to dodge my wheel. Unfortunately I did look into my mirror and saw something worse than a small heap in the middle of the street.

I saw the squirrel dragging itself to the side of the road, its rear legs destroyed. 

That was the beginning of my day.

On the left, a teacher friend (Jane Zeni), Anne Wright is on the right and I'm in the middle.

Later, I had lunch with a former teacher, Mrs. Wright. She was my high school composition teacher and back then, I thought she was old. In actuality, she was in her early 40s.

Now she's 85 and her memory is still sharp.

Over fried chicken, a reuben and a veggie burger, we spoke of cancer, of widowhood, of children and grandchildren. We spoke of former colleagues and the struggles that teachers have in the present. We spoke of writing and books.

And then we parted.

And the something small? At the end of my day, I visited with some friends who live in the same part of town as where I had lunch. The wife grew up in North County, the same area I grew up in. (We didn't know each other back then, and haven't discussed where exactly we each went to high school.)

I told them I'd had lunch with a former teacher, a teacher who was always no-nonsense, who always had high expectations, who was always rigorous, a teacher who wore cat-eye glasses.

My friend said, "It wasn't Mrs. Wright, was it?" (She said it was the mention of cat-eye glasses that jogged her memory.)

What an incredibly small world.

Who--from your past--have you connected with?