trying to get clean
air purifiers –
hot new accessory of the 2020s
with prefilters in an array of colors
to match your moods –
I go for charcoal
over electric blue
when we open it
the boys discuss how it compares
to the ones at their schools
especially in their auditoriums
it’s one more thing I’ve never dealt with
that these times demand
another town’s children comfort us
Inspired by notes sent by Bradford K-8 students in Littleton to Louisville Middle School.
I only read the first forty pages or so
enough to be reminded
of our immense capacity
for compassion
(ocean-sized –
no, sun-sized)
here it is:
in the hearts dotting i’s
and the T-rex making the bed joke
in all the rainbows and hearts
the I know how you feel notes
and the I can’t imagine’s.
the children of another town
have written to us
marshaling all their worldly experience
to say
we’re so sorry
and
it’ll be alright
the schools keep finding a way
when we said you can’t gather
they figured out how to get together
how to support our children
one living room to the next
when the towns were burning down
the schools sealed their ducts
so smoke stayed outside
and the buildings were saved
when flames chased toward the hospital
the schools called up their bus drivers
home on vacation, they drove toward danger
and rushed patients to safety
when whole neighborhoods burned
the schools reassured them –
you belong here with us
wherever you land
now they’re busing children
from the county’s four corners
so kids can have one bit of same
in this immense uncertainty
when the students had nothing
no backpacks no Chromebooks
no boots or winter coats
the schools greeted them
with a handful of everything
they set up free thrift shops
in the school parking lot
when we worried about the playground
they carted off the wood chips
when we worried about smoke
they tested the air
already feeding everyone
lunches for free
they added food pickup
for those whose pantries were gone
when I read that one-sixth
of Coal Creek Elementary families’ homes burned
(60 of 380 students’ homes are gone)
I began to understand
the immensity of the undertaking
to try to stabilize what has been deeply traumatized
to hold together a bit of the fabric
that once knit these families to each other
we ask so much of our schools:
our teachers, administrators,
support staff, custodians, paras, and kitchen staff,
school nurses, and counselors,
social workers, and bus drivers,
special ed teachers, psychologists,
registrars, front office staff,
and occupational therapists –
any title you think of at our schools –
we’re asking more of them now
than ever before
knowing that some of them
are also navigating their own loss
41 of them dealing
with their own new unhoused lives
while trying to stay hopeful
for the children they nurture
August First
August sneaks up
just when you feel you’re
safely in the thick of summer
lazing through July
but school and structure
are only a breath away
the days are getting shorter
I feel it tonight
but with the dark
comes candlelight’s glow
and the warmth of the cheery lanterns
strung overhead
these are the days when
I would take my new school shoes
out of their cardboard box
admire them and smell the stiff leather
then close them back in the closet
prepared to suck whatever juice summer had left
from that popsicle quickly losing its color and tang
going ice-grey
after reading the District’s reopening plan
tonight I am picturing
my sons
in half-empty rooms
of masked children
their shoes rooted to the floor
amidst evenly-spaced desks
how could they endure
not being able to move
or play
or eat?
tonight I am picturing
my sons
listless in our living room
realizing education
is such a small part
of school
how could I ask them to go
another year without friends
another year home with us
another year far from
what they know?
but I want to keep them safe –
how can I anticipate
what they’ll most loathe
about next year?
