How do you sit with the ‘in-between’ —where you have already mentally started your next chapter, but the current calendar still has pages left to turn.
There’s a line at the end of When Harry Met Sally—and apologies for the spoiler if you’ve never seen a forty-year-old movie—where Harry tells Sally, “When you decide how you want to spend the rest of your life, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.”
The Waiting Room
That is exactly the space I’m inhabiting right now. I feel like I’m in a waiting room. I’m still tethered to the conclusion of this current phase, but having finally figured out what I want to do next, I’m desperate for the curtain to rise.
The end of my relationship with Veronica is still sitting heavily. I’d hoped yesterday’s post would be the final word on the subject, but I know it will surface from time to time. It’s new territory—living in the same area, knowing our paths might cross, and navigating the weirdness of having shared so much. But I am ready to be past this. I’m not breaking, I’m not sobbing in the dark to Nine Inch Nails, but I am processing. Sometimes the things you assume are part of the package—the people you imagine walking the journey with you—become the very things you leave behind.
Closing the Books on the Old Classroom
Meanwhile, the school year is gasping its final breaths. I have a half-day today, and Wednesday is the end. Because our students work in a virtual, self-guided environment, the classrooms are already quiet. It’s a strange, liminal space. Word is official: the principal is retiring, and Sparky and I will be sharing our classroom again next year.
It’s an interesting dynamic, one I didn’t expect, but we’re professional and we work well together. Seeing her rearrange desks today, planning for summer garage sale finds—tables, lamps, more plants—it’s a reminder that life moves forward. I don’t decorate like the female teachers, but I certainly do more than the male ones. We’re preparing for a transition, yet my head is already further down the road.
The Audacity of the Next Chapter
I’m thinking about graduate school. I’m thinking about the Master’s in Administration and state certification. I’m not even sure I want to leave the classroom, but I want to know the option is there. It’s the “Audacity of Potential” in its rawest form. When I mentioned this to Kid 1, he was genuinely excited, and hearing him say he believes in me—that I’d make a great administrator—was exactly the fuel I needed.
It’s a strange season. Summer is my endgame, my favorite time of year, and the weather is spectacular. Yet, it’s not enough. I don’t want to slow down; I want to launch.
The Constants That Remain
And then there’s the anchor: the boys. Kid 1 is coming into town, and I’ve made arrangements to have Kid 2 here as well. I feel most alive when both my boys are under my roof. I know that time is finite—Kid 1 is 19, he’s becoming more independent, and he’ll naturally spend less time with his “dear old dad.” That reality hits home, which is why I’m so determined to enjoy this while it lasts. Once they’re both here, it’ll be the three of us, 24/7, and I intend to soak it all in.
As much as I want to dive headfirst into the next chapter, I’m learning that the “stretch” is part of the growth. I need to allow myself to process the fallout of the relationship, to enjoy the camaraderie I’ve found with my colleagues at the pizza place, and to appreciate the quiet before the storm of the next school year.
I might become a state superintendent, or I might end up digging ditches. It doesn’t matter as much as I thought it did. My kids are my kids, and they are the only constant in this journey. The grad school stuff will come together. The career shift will materialize. For now, I’m in the waiting room—but the door is unlocked. I just have to be patient enough to let it open.
The ‘waiting room’ I’m sitting in right now is also teaching me a lot about leadership. I’m starting to see that how we handle this period of waiting says everything about how we will handle the power that eventually comes next. You can read more about that in my latest post on ‘Lame Duck’ leadership
Rebuilding a life takes grit, consistency, and a lot of ‘Option C’ thinking. Whether I’m on the road beyond 1,000 consecutive days of blogging or reflecting on the decade of work that brought me here, the mission remains the same: No glitz. Just the work. New to the blog? Start your journey here to see the blueprint and the ‘Tricorder’ perspective behind the rebuild.
Today’s post is inspired by the WordPress Daily Prompt. While I’ve taken the topic in my own direction for the Road to 1,000 Days, you can find more responses to today’s prompt HERE.
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The article “The Waiting Room: Living in the Stretch” first appeared on Rebuilding Rob.
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