Mason was here

After a week of laying motionless on my couch, my unblinking eyes plastered to the television, I mustered just enough energy to slither out the door to head to the school for some "planning." "Planning" is actually code for "sit motionless in the classroom with my unblinking eyes plastered to the computer monitor." Without my daily routine, I lacked the motivation to function. How was I going to be a teacher again, I wondered as I walked dejectedly into my darkened room. But then I sensed it...a presence...a ghostly aura of encouragement. There was something on my desk, I saw, approaching it with wondrous awe. Mason was here, he had written, leaving good tidings of great joy in his wake as I ripped into the 2-liter of Pepsi like Popeye tearing into his can of trusty spinach.  Mason was here...a theological statement belying the laws that govern time and geography. He was here...my beloved, easy-smiling boy with a mind made for numbers...until circumstances beyond my control pulled him away (I couldn't, in good conscience, retain him and, despite my strongly-worded warning addressed to the governor of Alabama, Mason was still permitted to move to that area ). Mason was here...literally...to visit family for the holiday and graciously remembering his former (never use "old"...ALWAYS "former") 4th grade teacher to bring her what she most needed at this time: encouragement. Mason was here...and when he walked out of my door last June, a small part of me went with him, a symbiotic side-note that will revel in his contributions and achievements. Clutching a chocolate covered marshmallow Santa in my hand, I turned again to my computer monitor, revived and restored. Mason was here...they were ALL here, I realized. I better get ready.