Light Love

After the bell rang, he lingered in front of my desk. I looked up from my papers and, looking me in the eye, he said, "I just want you to know that it's been a privilege to have you as a teacher this semester."

"Are you dropping my class?"

"No, no, of course not, I just wanted you to know that you're really cool and I have so much fun in your class and you have so many great characteristics... I want my wife to be just like you, you have so many great qualities..."

And the rest of his words ran together as I shut my mind off at "wife," whisking all of those sweet words into a blurry omelet in my head. I'm not sure, but I probably blushed. I know I smiled a lot and said thank you a few times. And then,

"Well, see you later!" he said.

"See ya."

An hour later, a friend told me I'd be a great wife someday. He may have been exercising his sarcastic wit, but the truth is I really do know that I will be a great wife. I know I will be a great mom. I know I'm amazing.

I'm also insecure and uncomfortable, like a moth struggling, half-way out of the cocoon. I know who I am and who I want to be, but my skin's just not right yet.

I hope when I fall, I won't become an eggy mess, but I'll have the clarity to flutter to the light.