Some of the kids in my class are inviting me for a class party on 7 December. And they don't want me to bring anything, except my presence.
Not taking the kids for a year was a nice little break for them I think, academic or otherwise (since familiarity often breeds contempt). But even after a year of being weaned off them, I realise I cannot really be separated from them.
I still love them like the first time we met when they were in Secondary 1. And it warms my heart to know the children who called me mama when they first entered class then are now grown up, with or without my intervention. That is the marvel of time and nature. The little we have is tranformed into something great with each new morn.
The kids probably won't need me soon. They will get to know the world and all its workings as defined by both the ancients and the moderns in endless cycles, and then choose to live life in their own terms, without intrigue or rue.
I would love to stay and watch them, perhaps at a distance, take life at its promises. I want to be able to do so with respect and awe and smile at the miracles that will define their coming in and going out. But my fortune calls me elsewhere. And I cannot explain how the powers that be bring people together or separate them.
Perhaps that is of no consequence. It is better to have loved and lost than not to have loved at all. What matters is our present moment of togetherness and all the blessings I want to see showered upon their lives and all the prayers I have yet to finish saying for them.
I have until 7 December to do so.
