Not Gonna Go There

I pressed hard down on the book, flattening the spine to get a good copy.  "Study Guide Answers to Module 16."  (This rings familiar to some of you, yes?)  Flipped to get the last page copied and realized:  this IS the last page.

She's ready to check her answers, memorize enough for the good grade, and then test tomorrow.  Or tonight, depending on how late she stays up.  She is SSOOO ready to be done.  I'm ready for her!  She's worked hard to keep this "A" in Anatomy.  She's done well.  She'll be the best nurse...

But.  The last test in the last subject.  The end.  Period.

13 years of schooling.  I'm sure there were bad days as her teacher, but I can't remember a single one.  I'm stuck on "joy" in my memories.  If only there were "rewind..."

(sigh)  "Good with reality"?   I don't think that's my label.

So.  The last test will be administered.  She'll turn it in and yell "Hallelujah!!"  We'll act crazy, twirl around the house a bit in crazy dancing... We'll probably celebrate in some small way like families tend to do.

But I highly suspect that the test will lay on my desk, constantly shuffled under the every-present, eternal stack of paper.  Grading it and recording the score in my Teacher's Notebook is THE last of the last.  I don't think I can go there tomorrow.  Or next week.  Or whenever.

I'm perfectly content to stay in my precarious mental state of manufactured bliss, totally ignoring the fact that life is moving on and I need to move on with it.  With joy!  And with hope and courage and THANKFULNESS and trust.

Gack...