Today, as I sat on the brightly colored rug on my classroom floor,
bouncing two 3-year-olds, as I sang about “Mr. Golden Sun”,
I was struck with an amazing realization;
You see,
it was exactly a year ago,
in exactly the same room,
that I first stood up,
and felt a rush of dizziness.
I felt funny.
At the time, I told my coworker, and dear friend,
and at the time, she gave me a funny look.
Apparently, it was at that moment that she knew that I was pregnant.
She didn’t tell me, of course–she just gave me a knowing smile, about 9 weeks later, when I told her the news.
A whole year ago.
How can something feel like it was just yesterday,
yet, at the same time, feel like a lifetime ago?
About 90,000,000 things are different, now, than they were last summer.
Yet, no matter how much has changed since the last time the calendar read August 3,
I was still able to look up today, from my perch on the alphabet carpet,
with a child on each of my knees,
to see my dear friend, with whom I’ve shared so much,
and to whom I’ve grown so close,
and that I would not change for anything in the world.