Poem: May

teach me how to say goodbye and hello in the same breath

As a child, I read “Love, Stargirl” by Jerry Spinelli and connected right away with Stargirl. I loved her fearlessness to be herself, her wonder for the world, and her abounding kindness. In the story, Stargirl leaves behind orange halves throughout the town as a treat for birds and other animals. These oranges come to mark her path. If someone in town saw an orange half on top of a fence, they knew Stargirl had been there.

I write Kimber Was Here to have a record of how I make sense of the world. These essays are my oranges.

Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for following along.

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Hello world!

It feels like a while since I’ve last written on here, but when I look back at my last post, it really hasn’t been too long.

This month has had a lot of things packed into a short amount of time.

I had the absolute pleasure of attending

Mari Andrew

’s writing retreat in the mountains of North Carolina earlier this month. It was just a weekend, but I met truly wonderful people and came away with a deeper acceptance of myself. Being high up in the mountains with a writer who I really admire felt healing in many ways. I even had a moment up there where I thought, “Wow! My mind is totally quiet!” (that hadn’t happened in a while)

It was the perfect transition into feeling ~okay~ about saying goodbye to all my high school students and co-workers. Jonny came with me on the last day to help clean up my classroom. The end of the school year is a sweet time. You get to tie up some loose ends, finally hear “thank you”s from students you’ve poured your heart into, and have space to reflect on the utter chaos you were subjected to daily. I am so grateful for my time at this school, and it’s hard to believe my time there is over (for now! you never know!?)

Closing out the year

To end the month, Jonny and I drove down with our friends to Galveston, Texas, and stayed at a beach house for Memorial Day weekend. It was a weekend full of holding babies, eating snacks, and staying up late laughing.

My absolute favorite image from Galveston :) Photo Credit: Jesse Smith

With all the changes and uncertainty coming up, like moving to Utah this summer, leaving teaching for the next year (gasp!), and saying hello to a new living situation and new pace of life, I’ve learned that May teaches us a lot about simultaneous goodbyes and hellos.

Which leads me to my monthly poem about May. If you missed it, you can read last month’s poem here!

I hope you enjoy :)

May

May I peek under the edge of the sky?
	   squint at the pulleys, the complex machinations,
	   the drawing table with carefully laid out plans?
May I see the prayers be answered in real time,
	   my fear caught in my throat as I 
	   watch it on the big screen, and
	   witness the moving parts buckle into place?
May I ride that wave of uncertainty, breathless
	   salt stinging my unseen wounds?
May I dig a little deeper,
	   mourn a little louder,
	   taste the sweetness of pollen in the air,
	   only to rub it furiously from my eyes?

May, I see what you are doing here. 
	   You’re making the move from new to newer.
	   You’re closing and opening like a flower. 

May, I want it all - the edges and the prayers and the salt and the sweet.
	   Teach me how to say goodbye and hello in the same breath.

Thanks for reading,