King pin…

Paolo di Padovani looked pale in the dim light of the room…

“You are my last hope,” he said in a soft voice…

“They say you have magic in your hands…”

He picked up Hannah’s hands and clasped them…

His own hands felt cold,

the palms soft as kid leather…

Hers were rough from lye soap and hard well water…

“Is that true???”

Embarrassed and shocked,

she pulled her hands away…

— in The Midwife of Venice by Roberta Rich

Sometimes,

when I look,

in a mirror,

it takes me some time,

to re-cognize myself…

I remember a nightmare,

in which I was a child,

on the run…

I was hiding,

and protecting,

other children,

but I didn’t know,

from what,

or whom…

And then,

from out of nowhere,

a van pulled up beside me,

the door rolled open,

and a man,

in a wheelchair,

pointed at me,

yelling,

There SHE is!!!

Someone grabbed me,

as I woke up,

terrified,

with no idea,

what it all meant…

In the Fall,

of 2006,

I swore,

I would stay,

at my school,

for the rest,

of my career,

as a public school,

educator…

And I guess,

now in hindsight,

that swearing,

has proved,

to be true…

Back then,

I couldn’t imagine,

anything better,

as each day,

in my classroom,

was like,

a wicked trip,

of Once Upon,

A TIME,

with five,

and six year olds…

But soon after,

the swearing,

as I like to tell Starshine,

when she asks me,

So Mama,

what did you get up to today???

all of my big plans,

went completely,

sideways…

Giving new meaning,

to BEING,

right off,

the track…

Last night,

when I was laying down,

with Little Gem,

as she was falling asleep,

she asked me,

So Mama,

What do you want for Christmas???

just as I could hear the beginning,

of the third period,

and the sound,

of a hat trick,

floating,

up the stairs,

to her bedroom…

I whispered my first,

second,

and when I got to,

the third wish,

she said,

Mama,

keep your eyes,

on the fourth line,

You just never know,

what Santa,

is going to pull,

out of his sack…

A few weekends ago,

as part of my search,

for a teacher,

I headed east,

on Hastings,

to pay a little visit,

to an Italian gunsmith…

As I was buzzed in,

through,

the double doors,

my dog walked,

by my side,

like it was a regular day,

at the office…

And on Saturday,

after a morning,

at High Point,

watching a hung over,

old cowboy,

date rape,

a sweet thoroughbred,

in a round pen,

I got out of,

my station wagon,

to hear,

an elderly gentleman say,

You just missed them…

I wondered whom,

I’d missed,

as he quietly,

showed me,

his kit,

and filled,

me in,

on what goes on,

out there,

in the field,

of pointing,

flushing,

and retrieving…