The line is set. The distance between is precise. The inevitable push is lurking. Click, click, click, click, the porcelain rectangle hits the next, and the next, and the next. All the preparation has paid off. The line moved in tandem with my expectations. Click, click, click, one fell after the other as if passing a baton from one dedicated runner to the next.
Yesterday, Ryder and I went on a walk to get out of the house. Our local news was forecasting a strong chance of cabin fever for all citizens while a hurricane blew through. Despite being designated a “flood zone”, our sea level neighborhood, surrounded by creeks and marshes, didn’t experience any flooding, although our neighbors weren’t as lucky. We took advantage of the unexpected dryness to take in some windy and shockingly cold air, thankfully sans kayaks.
As we walked through the neighborhood, park Ryder noticed mushrooms. He spotted many different kinds – warm sugary browns, soft yellows, and bright whites. Ryder thought it was amazing that even though tree limbs, trash cans, parts of houses, furniture, and other debris along our path to the park were in disarray, these tiny, soft, white mushrooms stood strong. They weren’t the ones clustered together, tucked tight between strong tree roots, and lying close to the ground; they were out in the open, gently wobbling as forceful gusts blew through the field in the park.
For the last three months, I have been working on a youth-focused curriculum for work. The topic is about human sex trafficking and what it looks like in the United States. Also how pornography fuels human trafficking, albeit unintentionally by most consumers of pornography. It has been a difficult curriculum to write because 1. I feel ill-qualified and 2. the topic is heavy. But neither diminish the need for such a resource.