I Had Forgotten

A few weeks ago, I visited a local middle school to do an author visit with my new book. I made a slide deck, practiced reading the first chapter aloud, and headed on my way.

Oh, my word, I had forgotten.

I had forgotten about the glimmer in a kid’s eye, or the way their mouth turns up just a little in the corner when they’re trying not to smile.

I had forgotten about the feeling when you’re reading aloud, and you say something that strikes a chord with a student. You can physically see the moment they connect with you, the way they look up at you/through you/into your soul.

I had forgotten about how quickly you can zero in on the kid who just needs outrageous love. It’s all there in the way they carry themselves. The way their shoulders hunch or don’t, the way they look down before speaking. The way they look around to see who is watching, or who isn’t.

I had forgotten about the way words roll off my tongue when I’m telling a story, carefully choosing the words I want emphasize, letting them linger in the air for just an extra beat.

I had forgotten about the way kids show up, their energy lifting your spirits without your consent.

I had forgotten how lucky I was to spend my days with these brilliant little magical souls.