How to make it through

It's a struggle these days. The promise of everything ahead gets louder as I twiddle away at school, 7 to 8 hours a day, and still there are 3 weeks. Some days it is a physical ache to be free.
So how to stay the course? How to keep from wasting 3 weeks of a short life? There are ways, and most involve routine- I cannot help that school is still a part of my routine, but there are items of calm and replenishment that I can inject to lessen the tension:

Flowers in the house. Nothing elaborate- just little threads of natural beauty that map the way of my morning routine. Leaving in early silence- dog and husband still covered in the bed- when it's just a few blue shades of sunlight, I can see the dim look of a rose before I step out the door.

Every morning for the last semester, I stop at the same Starbucks on the way to school and order the same thing: a Tall Blonde Coffee and a Reduced Fat Turkey Bacon Breakfast Sandwich with No Turkey Bacon. I can say with all seriousness, that most mornings, this breakfast is the sole reason why I get out of bed when my alarm begins to sqawk.

As soon as I get to my classroom, I immediately light the candle on my desk. The type of candle changes throughout the year, but not the routine. The sweet smell and soft glow make the room, or at least my little corner, a bit less antiseptic.

Part of surviving the daily drudge involves trying to focus on what I will miss next year. Right now, that list seems pretty short (I am optimistic there will be more by this time next year), but one aspect I already know I will miss are so many of the people I work with. So everyday I try to write a note or two to a person that I love here at school. It keeps me focused on the sweet times.

No matter what, I need to read a poem. As sacred as a priest's meditation, the reading of a poem or two can instantly settle and realign me. I'm working my way through the American Poet Laureate Anthology right now- a collection of poems from all the former P.L.'s. And this one in particular touches my current place:

All the more fitting since I just finished teaching The Odyssey, for the 8th year, every year, to 6 classes a year . . . we've worn each other out, Odysseus.