Homesick for Kids

I feel really homesick for Children's -- a.k.a "Kids." I miss Tiffany, the coffee girl at the Daily Brew's cappuccinos first thing when I come in in the morning. AGMC has plain Starbucks coffee. Blah. I miss the bright colors at Kids, and literally the sound of kids: running, playing, crying, laughing. I miss the sound of the ball sculpture in the Atrium lobby. I miss knowing where I am going, knowing who to talk to about something, knowing where to find simple things like staples or a pen. I'm living out of boxes in my office because I have no desk to even put things away in. I miss the comforts of being at Kids.

I had to wander the halls at General to find A/V to take a LCD projector out to the wellness center for my cessation class last night. I had that deer-in-headlights look I've seen so often in people's faces at Kids when they haven't got a clue where they're going. It's embarassing. I don't even know which door to go into in the cafeteria, and there's no yummy pizza or frozen yogurt.

And people -- the ones who work there and the ones who are visiting loved ones there -- just aren't as nice. They don't smile. They don't say hi. They don't stop to help you when you've got that deer-in-headlights look. I feel like an outcast in unfamiliar territory. It makes me miss where I came from.

But do I miss it enough to go back? No, I don't think so. Because....

The charge I get from facilitating these smoking cessation classes is just the sort of charge I got from teaching university, and it's just the sort of charge I need right now. A chance to inspire, a chance to help others believe in themselves. And I feed off of it. When they're inspired, I'm inspired; when I'm inspired, they're inspired.

I stopped teaching in 2003 after five years because the students just weren't the same. I didn't get the same energy from it -- or maybe I wasn't giving the same energy. I don't know. But turning in five students for plagiarism that last semester didn't help.

But if I can help just one person quit smoking, just one person at a time, it's all worth it. It's worth being away from my toddler in the evening. It's worth not coming home until almost 9 o'clock at night exhausted.

I wish I could help my dad. So maybe I'm living vicariously through other people. I can't help my dad because he's not there yet, so I help those I can.

I'm rambling and exhausted. Maybe tomorrow I'll actually have a desk in my office :0) But it doesn't matter, desk or no desk, if I can help just one person...