Of Bears and Penguins

I sit here looking out over this city. Over the sports’ stadiums. Past the dark that I know is the harbor. At the familiar face of the Bromo Seltzer Clock Tower. I look out on this dark city that now is only lights twinkling.
It was so quiet this morning. It was snow quiet this morning. There is a particular quiet that surrounds a snow, and it was here this morning. I love that quiet, when everything is still and near and you are afraid to breath to loudly for fear of shattering the quiet.
I imagine the water is cold in the harbor, and I believe it’s cold out on the street corners. Believe it is cold now on the steps of St. Paul’s where the homeless sleep. Seeing homeless people sleep on church steps makes me feel ashamed – if I had my way, all churches would open their doors as true sanctuaries.
Wish you could see this city from my apartment windows. Dark, twinkly and insular. I’ve been here almost five months, nearly half a year and it’s been a more foreign place in many ways than anywhere I’ve traveled. In more ways that I care to enumerate in the snow quiet dark night.
I pick up my words to think, and to bridge the gaps between us. That is the best words can do – bridge gaps, give meaning, connect. I pick up my words as an amulet, a sword and a binding rope.
The job I do isn’t easy. It’s hardly fun, and not intensely rewarding. But seeing my students reap the benefit of their effort and work makes it something. I wish you could have seen the smile on his face today when he got a “Star Student” certificate to take home. He earned every bit of it too. His smile in front of his classmates was beautiful.