Heading to an interview today to become a teacher.
Remember when we were standing in your kitchen last September, fully embraced, and I said “I just don’t know what to do”
You said, “I do. You need to be a teacher”
My rock.
My rock.
How did you know my souls purpose before I did?
How did you teach me so many lessons only to disappear when things got really hard and admittedly cracked wide open?
I want to share this with you. I want you to quiet my fears and worries about the interview. I want you to be there for me. I want to be there for you. To push you and be an example. I want to support you in leaving your work that I know you hate. I want to encourage you and be your sounding board. Your quiet release.
But you’re not here. You’re dead, basically.
