Today was the second day I’ve brought Shiloh, now nearing 11 weeks, to the university. I’m grateful to live only about ten minutes away, so I can bring her and take her home in a feasible amount of time.
When I walk her though campus, the joy I see on strangers’ expressions and friends’ faces brings me the feeling of wonder. It’s almost like a wonder domino effect. Shiloh brings delight to someone, I witness their faces, the delight spreads to me.
We all need more puppy therapy at busy college campuses.
I walk by this building all the time, but I never have a reason to enter (so it has remained unnoticed, mostly). Tonight, a beautiful reading by Tyler Mills was held here.
And I really wondered how I’d never stopped to notice these windows before.
One of my graduate professors has been bringing our T/Th Ecocomposition class food every day since the start of the semester. When she brought donuts early on in January, I think most of us thought it would be a one time thing. But she hasn’t missed a day. I’ll call her “A.”
She doesn’t get anything “extra” for this. She doesn’t get to invoice her receipts and receive the money she spent on Trader Joe’s goodies on her next check. No one is watching her. Just us. And today it hit me how wonderful the act is.
This morning was my first day back to school having to get a toddler and a 8-week-old puppy ready before a long day ahead. There was so much added scrambling that I hardly took a few bites of a bagel my husband forgot and left on the counter.
When I sat at the wooden table this morning for class, pop-tarts, coffee dunkers, granola bars, and mini brownies with pink frosting and sprinkles adorned the table. I slid a brownie into my mouth and it tasted like sugary phenomenal bliss.
She’d tell us she started bringing us food because we voiced our concerns that we don’t get paid enough for the labor we do as graduate students for the university. Sometimes there are days, especially toward the end of the month, we struggle to pay the bills and grocery shop.
“When you told me you all [grad students] take care of each other, I wanted to take micro actions to help,” A said. She showed us that she listened. And although she cannot directly increase our paycheck by a few hundred dollars, the food helps. And it’s just really nice.
Last December I wrote an article for The Guardian on the US graduate student loan crisis. Many people chimed in, explaining I was not alone. On the fourth floor of our building, our department has a food pantry. It’s free. Most of us supply items up there ourselves, including feminine hygiene products and coffee, as well as dry goods, soda, and more. But breakfast on Tuesdays and Thursdays has been a delight.
“A” is the kind of role-model I really appreciate in a graduate degree. She reminds me: we may not be able to change the entire system in a day (or a semester) but small actions spread roots to form blooming results.
This morning I woke up feeling so naturally happy. My son was sleeping horizontal in the bed next to me. My husband had kissed me before his commute to work, like every morning. I had a long day ahead and was waking up late; I had to rush to get out on time. But I wasn’t stressed or overwhelmed. I didn’t have anything grand to look forward to, it was just a regular day but I felt overwhelmingly grateful and with joy in my heart. I think that’s wonder, in the body, and mostly, in the spirit.
Here is a photo of what I was up to today: running a thesis workshop for Masters students.
My son sitting on the edge of the pool, dangling his feet beyond the gutter, splashing. That’s my wonder today. As a swimmer with a dad who is still a fantastic medal winning swimmer — I was nervous/proud/excited/full of anticipation.
On a funny note — he was thrilled right when he entered, then when he accidentally dunked himself, he was cold and less sure. But he made it through the whole class! And we enjoyed some special time after the class ended, just him and me in the pool. 💙
Between finishing being at school and picking up B, I have about an hour. I try to be outdoors if the weather allows and go on at least a 2.2 mile jog. I usually do the same route through the neighborhood. All the lawns have been brown and dead looking since the first winter freeze. But, today I noticed a “nicer” part of the neighborhood (maybe slightly more expensive/newer homes) had spray painted all the lawns green. I don’t know why but this made me laugh with wonder. I wondered how much it cost, who did the spray-painting? Was it an HOA thing? It kind of looked silly, like when someone first dyes their hair and some of the paint lingers on their forehead and neck. There was green graffiti-like marks on the sidewalks. I wondered what was wrong with having the brown winter grass like the rest of us? What do you think of painted grass?
GREEEEEN!You can see, across the street — the green pain stops. (Maybe considered a different part of the neighborhood.)
The washing machine hums. My wet hair coils in an orange towel atop my head. Red flannel pajamas wrap around my legs. Today has been a Tuesday. A regular Tuesday. School, work, teaching, meetings, stopping by Sprouts and picking up tortilla chips and cheese and pinto beans to make nachos, making nachos and rice and guacamole at home, stopping at the corner gas station to buy cold Chardonnay I never get to, baby gets a bath, baby goes to bed, Nick and I collapse on couch, washing machine still on, still loud.
An average day.
But today I received a text message from a family friend who also happens to be my brother, Gavin’s, nurse. Nurse P. She had to undergo a surgery and was afraid of what might happen during the surgery.
But today, she sent a group message to my sisters and I, and it warmed me, made me believe in the gift of wonder in ordinary days. She writes:”Courtney, I have found wonder from days before the surgery all of a sudden I felt peaceful, I was no longer in constant fear of the unknown, in every person who has taken care of me, in all the visitors I had…I’m so full of happiness and I feel incredibly blessed. Once again thank you for cheering me on. Xoxo.”
The surgery went exceptionally well, better than doctors may have predicted. That’s wonder — a gift, a sense of peace, the arms of love.
Wonder Year: A journey to find enchantment every day 