Almost on the road

 At 3:30 on Friday 24 May, I submitted my grades and am officially on vacation. 

How come my "to do" list is getting longer instead of shorter? 

I've spent many happy months thinking about this trip and all of a sudden I'm losing a bit of confidence. The "what ifs" are starting to infect my thinking, which simply means it's time to slow down and let this morning's long-acting steroid shot in my knee get to work. Who wants to limp around WW2 battlefields, through Monet's garden in Giverny, and along the Seine in Paris? I'd better add some anti-inflammatories to my list.

Our last Teen Open Mic event last night is something to savor. We had singers, songwriters, and poets reading their original work. I read a poem that will be published next month and the group helped brainstorm titles for me. 

I handed a crisp Ben Franklin to A. G., who won the first Poet's Corner Award for graduating seniors. Her ode captured all of the judges' attention and it was thrilling to meet her and hear her read.

Being in a poetry community (or any creative arts community) is so important and when folks say this next generation is full of troubles, I think of my writers and students and know they are asking all of the right questions. I'm not worried about them.

First stop, Paris. There, I'll find some poets in Shakespeare & Co., the famous bookstore in every movie about Paris. 

I wonder if any poets will be observing the 80th anniversary of D-Day celebrations through the lens of a military brat pacifist? I'll be tromping all through Normandy in week, following the footsteps of those who fought in a battle that changed the outcome of the war. I get serious when I think about those men who faced the cliffs above Omaha Beach and heard machine gun fire for the first time. Whew.

Before I head to the sea, I'll fulfill a lifelong dream and meet my best friend, another JJ, in Paris. What she doesn't know is that I have a joke ready to play on her in the Montmartre. There, a guide will meet us for a tour of Moulin Rouge and the old red light district. "French Frye" is in cahoots with me and if my scheme to surprise her works, I'll certainly share it here.

 

Être fleur bleue            "be a blue flower"