When

Yesterday in the library an old friend who I know nothing about beyond the information desk came in. I hadn't seen him for a while, but he is a geology professor who retired and almost immediately went back to work as an adjunct because he missed the interaction with the students so keenly. We discussed the similarity of our situations. He said as soon as he doesn't feel that the students are excited about his subject, he will retire for good. I said as soon as the schedule become more oppressive than the joy of one-to-one with my hundreds of patrons, I will also retire. We looked at each other and grinned, knowing we were the luckiest of people to have a choice to say "when" the pouring of our beloved careers has filled our cups completely.

when the rains came

During our last storm, when the direst of predictions scalded the media all day, and the sky was midnight black, only the rain came, in torrents. I was alone in the house and opened the front door amid all the clamor,  just enough to inhale deeply. Standing there breathing in the smell of earth, green plants, wet foliage - the DNA of life, I felt like I could live forever on just that exhilarating scent.