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teacher love

I always adored my teachers. (Well, a good percentage of them. A few were total hacks and didn't deserve my admiration.) A good handful are my friends today via social media and a select few are nearly soulmates for me in this life.

My fifth grade teacher loves the Oklahoma Sooners and now, in retirement, bakes fancy cakes.

A high school drama teacher is still teaching after he tried to stop for a minute. I think he's in his 43rd year. He's so wonderful at it. I know he's slowing down. Hopefully his students understand that they are fortunate to have him.

Another high school teacher, one I actually never had, now runs a restaurant and a food truck. He's such an interesting human with unique insights. I enjoy talking to him over beers for me and soda water for him.

Then, there's my psychology teacher from senior year. I'd always vaguely stayed informed about her life via facebook, and I held her dear in my heart. I can still remember where I sat in her class room, spring semester of my last year in high school. I can remember writing a "school shooting poem" from that seat in her class (probably when I should have been working on something else.)

I remember when the bell rang on my final day of high school, and I left her classroom and went on to live the next twenty years of my life, not knowing what was lacking, and certainly not knowing how our paths would cross this summer.

I fell in love with her son.

I got to spend time with her this weekend, and meet her wonderful husband. They are such a lovely couple and such a joy to be around. After living a TON of life, and all the ups and downs that go along with that, it's just apparent that they are still on the same team. It's apparent that they love one another.

And it's apparent that they love their son. We have that in common.

My heart is overflowing. I'm so thankful for the gift that this summer has been to me. It's probably the first year in my adulthood that I don't dread the winter. I'll stay warm.

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