There is a special room on the third floor of that tired old school. A room where love never leaves. Under a year I spent here, in this room on the third floor. This room is a warm spring rain, one that washed off all the dust, one that leaves the air smelling like bright green grass. For that year, this room was my escape. Everyday, when I walked into that room on the third floor, I left all my worries at the door.
The heart of this room is not what holds it together. It is not the tile floor that resembles a checker board. It is not the wall of windows that pull in beautiful rays of warmth and comfort. The heart lies within the woman who teaches. The four walls are only there to capture and contain her wisdom and support.
She makes wonderful things grow with her kindness and creativity. She teaches with such passion, it radiates off her like the light coming through those windows. I grasped onto every word. She believes words are only words until there is meaning put behind them. Every thing she taught had profound meaning.
I was privileged to spend one hundred and eighty days in the room with a steady heartbeat. I miss the checkered floor and those worn windows, but all good things can't last. I left 307 with a full heart. Knowing that she will support and be patient with me, always.