271/365

Thursdays have settled into an easy rhythm. Today crossing the bridge came without delay. I traveled down the expressway, dark clouds to the north, bright sun to the south. Mid-morning, picking up a few supplies at the grocery goes quickly. Soon the clouds open wide and the rains fall hard. I wait in my car to see if I can avoid getting wet. I make a two pans of chicken enchiladas, one for now, one for later, from a recipe known by heart. We meet a friend for lunch and linger over enchiladas suizas and tall glasses of tea. I continue the rounds of laundry and fall asleep in the chair, my old man dog at my feet, snoring in harmony, I am sure. Late afternoon brings preparations and prayer and by 6, students file through the doors at church. Friends old and new generously share greetings and hugs and kisses. The classrooms fill, and soon the buzz of repetition, of conversations in broken and improving English, of kids playing, fill the halls. Two hours later and the din fades, and I head home. I compare stories with my girls, and we watch Late Night and we laugh out loud together. A good day, indeed.