Migrations

This has been a common sight around our house this winter, this migration of a group of six or seven deer, all apparently part of the same "family," who migrate to and fro, in front and in back of our house, in search of food.

Although we've had a few days of milder weather, much welcomed after almost two solid months of rather awful winter, we're back to snow and the warm 50s are but a yearned-for memory. The soul, tired of all the stark whiteness and gray of winter, wants to demand sun and warmth and spring but has no one to take those demands to.

At work, I'm almost done with the process of pre-tenure review, which I must admit has been more enervating than I thought. Having colleagues in the classroom observing, and sometimes more than one, has been a new experience. I usually welcome class observations but, this time, feeling that any small mistake may somehow "count against" me has made it less fun than I previously thought it would be.

At any rate, I know it's part and parcel of the process, and I have been spared having four or more people visiting in one day. But after next week, once the department meets to discuss my pre-tenure review, I will be relieved that this part is over.

My papi, who today would have turned 74, would have told me not to worry, would have expressed his unconditional confidence in me and, as a dear friend reminded me today, would have been so proud, so proud. Still, he is not here and it has been a sad day.

But the good news is that next week is also when this dismal February finally ends. There are many reasons to look forward to March, of course, not just because school goes on break but also because winter must, someday soon, give up its hold on everything and then the deer will be less visible and less hungry and everything around us will be reborn again.