I walked to school this morning in indigo twilight, the dry snow sparkling in front of me like faeries. A big chunk of moon hung over the southwest. The snow creaks, a rare sound here. It's cold.
In June I'll live forever. In January I am mortal. How many Januaries left? Likely less than 30, and possibly none.
We need to enter mortality into equations involving us. We need a January education policy.
Intel will outlive me. Boeing will outlive me. Dow Chemical will outlive me. Corporations have become immortal. Children have not.
The faeries creaking at dawn, as real as my thoughts, fade as the sun rises. A calendar on the central office wall reminds teachers how many instructional days remain until the HSPA testing in March.
We don't get do-overs.
