Slice of Life 2025: 11 of 31- A magical morning

Throughout the month of March, I am participating in the annual Slice of Life Story Challenge, an event hosted by the team at Two Writing Teachers. Every day in March, I will share a story and comment on the stories of other participants. Please join us in writing, sharing, reading, and commenting!

Tracy's post about Cadillac Mountain inspired this one from me since it was a parallel experience although 5,132 miles apart if I'm to believe google. The map below shows the line between Cadillac Mountain and the Haleakala Crater in Maui.  

Luckily for us, we were still on Connecticut time on the morning we'd designated as the one to go to the Haleakala sunrise. Even so, we might have had a little grumbling and wondering about whether the early wake up and the long drive would be worth it. Julia assured us it would be, and she had done all the pre-planning and reservation-making. Backing out wasn't an option. 

 We were all in the car at 4:30 am, making sure that we were following all recommendations and being at the visitor's center well before the time of the projected sunrise. If someone had tried to explain to me the road, I'm not sure I could have understood, but I did take a picture of the car's navigation system to show the hairpin curves we navigated. I'd be lying if I said I didn't gasp every so often. The girls kept count of any of my overly-audible noises. 

(For the record, we were on the edge of many cliffs, so, some noises may have been warranted!)

It was still dark at the top of the crater, and somehow, I didn't take the warm-clothing advice serious enough. We all had sweatshirts, but wow, the matching puffer coats that the people who'd paid the big bucks for the tours looked cozy! 

We were left to snuggles and hoods. 

A glow started soon after we arrived, 

and continued to grow as the sun glimmered across an ocean of clouds hovering over the crater. 

As the sun rose, the crowd silenced, and native Hawaiian people chanted a traditional greeting to the sun, a prayer welcoming the morning. It was magic. 

As the sun continued to rise, Garth and the girls hiked down into the crater. I sat that hike out since I'd overdone the previous hiking day. But I loved watching the people I love most in the world have so much joy. 

Slice of Life 2025: 10 of 31- Heart-shaped bread

Throughout the month of March, I am participating in the annual Slice of Life Story Challenge, and even hosted by the team at Two Writing Teachers. Every day in March, I will share a story and comment on the stories of other participants. Please join us in writing, sharing, reading, and commenting!

Last year, my One Little Word was time. It's an interesting juxtaposition with my 2025 word of heal. Every February, I gather possible small moments... not necessarily written slices, but moments that could become slices. On February 14, Clare made heart-shaped bread. Adorable, right? I came in from work, and I noticed the bread on the cooling rack. I remember thinking, wow, that's adorable. I love that she took the time to make special bread. 

When the girls were in elementary school, Valentine's Day was a big deal in our house. We had heart-shaped pancakes, I sent them to school with heart-shaped sandwiches wearing something heart-ish, they came home to some sort of low-budget Valentine gift-- you get the idea. 

Over the years, Valentine's Day lost its charm for my daughters. Like many holidays, it makes as many people unhappy as happy. Somewhere along the dating age of the girls, we stopped making a big deal of it. I don't remember an incident. It was more of a drift, I think. (I may get corrected in the comments since the girls all read my posts.)

In any case, there was something nostalgic about Clare's heart-shaped bread. 

Mid-February had a LOT going on for me, and Friday nights (which Feb 14 was) meant back to back tutoring sessions and then figuring out something semi-meaningful for dinner and dealing with end of the week exhaustion. Clare came in as I was organizing myself for tutoring session #1. 

"Did you see my heart-shaped bread?" she asked. 

In my mind, I responded. 

In my mind, I'd admired the bread. 

In my mind I'd even been touched by the heart-shaped bread. 

In my defense, I even took a picture of the heart-shaped bread. 

But out of my mouth... silence. 

Clare, tapping into her sense of humor, entered my office and stood over me. 

"You didn't respond at all," she said, her eyes wide, her hands on her hips. "Did you see my heart-shaped bread?"

Clare caught me, and I caught myself not taking the time to appreciate something awesome, literally right under my nose. Or rather, appreciating it, but not taking the time to express that appreciation. Appreciation and expressing it takes time,  a word that has nestled into the fabric of my being from living with it for the year. Heal is a word with many meanings. As I'm home and physically healing, I have the gift of time to reach out and reconnect with friends. Most aren't as direct as Clare is about receiving a response, but there are probably several calls I can make, texts I can send, checking in and checking on-- making sure that I'm responding to all the heart-shaped bread that's in my world. 

Slice of Life 2025: 9 of 31- Who's the jerk?

Throughout the month of March, I am participating in the annual Slice of Life Story Challenge, and even hosted by the team at Two Writing Teachers. Every day in March, I will share a story and comment on the stories of other participants. Please join us in writing, sharing, reading, and commenting!

We all have our moments in time when we're not our best selves. I had one recently. 

I made a morning phone call, and in minutes, I knew it wasn't going well. I asked my husband about plans for later, and his response was well-intentioned (it almost always is with him), but it did nothing but irritate me. I called our insurance company, and the woman on the other end of the phone could not answer one of my questions (which I thought were fairly straightforward) with any clarity or certainty. And the answers she could give were not the ones I wanted to hear. 

All of this was before 8 in the morning. 

On my way to work, I called my friend, Jen. She's a good sounding board, and she has open clearance to call me out on bad behavior. I know this, and she knows this. 

"Here's my problem, though," I said. "When there's one person who's being a jerk, then they're a jerk. When there are two people being jerks, it could be they're both being jerks. When there are three people being jerks, I'm not sure any of them are jerks. Who's the jerk?"

She laughed. I laughed too. I described some of the conversations and circumstances, and she reassured me that there was a fair amount of jerkiness, including maybe some of my own. 

And definitely, when everyone around is a jerk, it's more likely that the jerk is me. 

Slice of Life 2025: 8 of 31- Elementary memories

 

Throughout the month of March, I am participating in the annual Slice of Life Story Challenge, and even hosted by the team at Two Writing Teachers. Every day in March, I will share a story and comment on the stories of other participants. Please join us in writing, sharing, reading, and commenting!

Leah's post on Friday is about how she played a game with her students, identifying each of them by their voices. My comment was something along the lines of what they'll remember about elementary school when they are looking back on it one day. And then it got me thinking about the memorable moments. I once heard a speaker say that school plays and getting in trouble form some of the strongest memories. It's funny; I do have strong memories of getting in trouble. My second-grade teacher was one of my least favorite-- no my LEAST favorite teacher of all time. She kept a daily tally of the minutes that were wasted because she was waiting for students to settle down. I remember feeling constantly annoyed with Rodney who smelled and was -- in my seven year-old mind--one of the main contributors to that rising tally. I wonder if there were SIT teams or behavior plans back then. I doubt it. In any case, when Mrs. B. got to 60 minutes, she kept the whole class after school. We had to write apology letters to our parents for inconveniencing them because they had to come pick us up. I wonder how that would fly today. Any ideas? 

I must have been in fourth grade when a more complicated incident happened. This one would be/could be/should be an entire post. Maybe I'll expand on it tomorrow. But wow, I remember vividly how Mr. C. confronted me about bragging about a program I was in and how devastated I was that my friend had made up stories that not only got me in trouble, but also made me out to be a terrible person in the eyes of one of the favorite teachers of the building. 

When I was in middle school I got my first detention from Mrs. S. She was the home economics teacher, and there was an alcove next to her room with a full length mirror-- actually it was one of those three-mirror set ups where you can see parts of yourself you usually can't. One of my friends and I met there every day before the bell rang so that we could check out reflections in those mirrors. As soon as the bell rang, we'd race to our seats. Bodies sliding into places at the buzzer must have been a pet peeve for Mrs. S. I think I got a warning or two and then a detention. Devastating for my almost-perfect seventh-grade self. For the record, I had a 100% average in her class (I'd guess that also annoyed her), and I got the only 3 (not good) for conduct in my pre-high school career. I must have really liked those mirrors. 

As I write this, I'm aware that I could go on and on with moments of reprimand or of other negative memories (people getting hurt on the playground, throwing up in the hallway, trading lunches in the cafeteria). I could also talk about some core memories of being a munchkin when I really thought I should have been Dorothy. (I shouldn't have been!) But I don't have a lot of memories that Leah's students are likely to have twenty, thirty, forty years from now. A hangman game in Mrs. J's room... brainteasers from Miss G... Mr. L. crawling across desks pretending to be the main character in one of the final scenes of The Pearl... 

I'm a big believer in the power of purposeful play. This trip down memory lane makes me even more committed to bringing experiences into classrooms that become positive core memories. Kudos to Leah and so many of the SOLSC community members for being teachers who create positive memories. 

Slice of Life 2025: 7 of 31- Getting what you want

 

Throughout the month of March, I am participating in the annual Slice of Life Story Challenge, and even hosted by the team at Two Writing Teachers. Every day in March, I will share a story and comment on the stories of other participants. Please join us in writing, sharing, reading, and commenting!

Many of you have caught on to the fact that there's been a lot of healing going on in the Meehan household so far this year-- somewhat planned and the rationale for my 2025 One Little Word being heal.

It's been tricky for me, Larkin, or Clare to not have a reference to my knee in our posts so far this month. Maybe part of the healing will be posts that don't involve this new joint.

One of the slices I'd written back in February involved Larkin and her healing process. She was on the sofa, and she was supposed to be on the sofa. Fortunately for her, the family room opens to the kitchen, so it's pretty easy to put in your requests from your place in the pillows.

"I'd really like a glass of wine," Larkin said. 

“Absolutely!” I replied. I'm guessing I was pretty ready for one as well.

I went to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of white. I dug out the wine opener and opened it. I got two matching glasses from the cabinet. And I poured the wine, all while Larkin was sitting on the sofa. 

I delivered them. And she thanked me. But she didn’t say thank you right away, which was unlike her. For just a second, a second longer than was normal, quiet hovered between us. 

“I really wanted red,” she said, her chin tucked, a slight smile and a tipped brow. 

We both laughed. Red it was. Her glass of white wine went back into the fridge for me for later, and within a minute, she had her red and I had my white.

As a fellow coach-sitter, I now understand and appreciate even more the fragile balance of asking for what you really want and being demanding. My mother was over yesterday, and one of her comments was about how good I've gotten at making requests. Yes, it's a bit of an art. Before you HAVE to sit on the sofa, it’s easy to think: wouldn’t it be nice if someone would bring me a glass of water? Couldn’t someone bring me my coffee? Why is it that no one EVER serves ME?!?! And then, when you’re stuck, and all that you can do is request nicely and receive politely, it doesn’t feel so great. You want the power to get your own water, to have it be the right temperature, in a specific glass with a certain number of ice cubes…

So Larkin, much respect for you for requesting that wine you wanted. And I'll continue to ask for what I need with love and appreciation. Hopefully, not for too much longer, though.

Slice of Life 2025: 6 of 31- A Morning Text

Throughout the month of March, I am participating in the annual Slice of Life Story Challenge, and even hosted by the team at Two Writing Teachers. Every day in March, I will share a story and comment on the stories of other participants. Please join us in writing, sharing, reading, and commenting!

My phone buzzed at 8:03 this morning with a text from a teacher. What could B. want? Maybe there was a glitch in an on-line resource. Maybe he was looking for some help with a lesson. Maybe the assessments weren't loading correctly. He probably doesn't know I'm out on medical leave, and he definitely wouldn't know that sleep was a tough commodity last night. I was still pretty groggy. 

I hesitated to open the text. I knew if I opened it, he'd know I'd read it. (Damn that read receipt!). I also wasn't sure that I had the mettle to handle much in the way of requests. (Damn that grogginess!)

Then I opened it, and he was right. My heart did melt a bit. 

Sometimes the right text at the right time makes an unbelievable impact. 

Slice of Life 2025: 5 of 31- Keeping it real

Throughout the month of March, I am participating in the annual Slice of Life Story Challenge, and even hosted by the team at Two Writing Teachers. Every day in March, I will share a story and comment on the stories of other participants. Please join us in writing, sharing, reading, and commenting!

As she has been over the last week, Larkin helped me with getting to bed tonight. She leaves on Thursday, and I can already feel my sadness about that departure. IYKYK. 

"I haven't written my post for the morning," I said. 

"You can write it in the morning for the morning," she said. 

"I don't like to do that," I said. 

Old habits die hard. For however many years that I've been doing the March Challenge, I've written my post the night before and posted in the morning. 

"You can use one from your stash," Larkin said. 

Today's been a teary day. Some of you may know the types. You know that whatever was said or happened is not even remotely tear-worthy, but those tears are closer to the surface than they're supposed to be or than they usually are. Pain'll do that. Some of you reading this might already know that I got a new knee last week. I'm so happy, and I can't wait for all the things I'll be able to do, but Day 6 has been pretty slumpy. 

And yes, I have a stash of posts I wrote for those just in case days, and I like them all. They're great slices, but... 

"None of them could happen right now," I said to Larkin, smiling even though tears were hot to drop. "I can't use them."

She nodded. She understood. 

"Everyone would know right away that it's a phony slice," I said. 

"I think you have your slice," Larkin smiled. 

Smart girl. 

Slice of Life 2025: 4 of 31- Done Lists or To-Do Lists?

Throughout the month of March, I am participating in the annual Slice of Life Story Challenge, and even hosted by the team at Two Writing Teachers. Every day in March, I will share a story and comment on the stories of other participants. Please join us in writing, sharing, reading, and commenting!

This morning I read about Done Lists on Amy's blog. As a person who always makes a to-do list, I loved the idea. In fact, I asked Garth to bring me a notepad and a pen. I was going to start my Done List right then and there.

"Maybe it'll help me with this struggle of being able to so little," I said. "A change up of the mindset." 

 I already had a few things to put on my done list. He brought it to me... 

(Sidenote: I'm dealing with the effects of post knee surgery and anything out of my immediate reach might as well be down the street.)

But then I had to go to the bathroom. I'd work on that done list later. 

Getting downstairs is like a migration these days. My entourage and I require a bit of a staff to relocate my ice machine, walker, computer, phone, water bottle, meds, knitting projects, and book from my upstairs sitting quarters to my downstairs sitting quarters. Once I got settled into my place on the sofa, I realized the done list was still upstairs. It's okay. I knew what I had to do. 

I meant to ask for that green pad again when I knew someone was making a quick trip up and then coming back down again, but I forgot. When you have to ask for everything to be done for you, it's tough to request a trip upstairs for one pad and pen.    

I had a few moments at the PT place, and I thought about that done list again. It would have been a perfect time to write some things on it. What counts? 
Got my sweater almost done. 

Read a chapter. 

Got my sneakers on. 

Round one of leg lifts and butt crunches. 

Blog posts read. 

Comments, yep. 

I had a fair amount I could have put on that green pad Done List. 

But it was still upstairs next to my bed. 

When I got home, I texted back and forth with my doctor, and he asked when I was heading back for a follow-up. Ugh-- that was on my list of things to do today. I forgot. 

You can probably guess where this is heading because that picture at the top of the post? I took it at the end of the day. Not the beginning.  

Maybe I'll try the Done List again tomorrow. Or maybe accept that I'm a better to-do list person. 

                                                   

Slice of Life 2025: 3 of 31- It's a small world!

 Throughout the month of March, I am participating in the annual Slice of Life Story Challenge, and even hosted by the team at Two Writing Teachers. Every day in March, I will share a story and comment on the stories of other participants. Please join us in writing, sharing, reading, and commenting!

If you've been reading my posts or any of my daughters' posts, you've probably figured out that I'm recovering from a knee replacement. Please celebrate this with me. As hard as the last few days have been-- the surgery was on 2/26-- I've been waiting to do this for a long time, and there are some good stories leading up to it. 

I tore my ACL for the first time when I was 15. Now it seems like everyone knows someone who tears an ACL, but when I did it, there weren't too many around. In fact, it took three months to diagnose, and, once they diagnosed it, no one was willing to fix it. I'm dating myself. That was 1982. So no more soccer and a big brace for anything that involved pivots. I had some good callouses from tennis and occasional skiing days... 

My dad pulled some strings when I was 20, and a New York surgeon did the repair. The surgery was different then-- I was in the hospital for several days, have two big scars, went through LOTS of PT, and tore the ligament a second time a few years later. Even if I'd wanted to have a second surgery, a blood clot from that injury sealed the not happening deal. 

Fast forward 37 years. 

I've known I'd need a new knee for a while, but what an inconvenient truth! That being said, I was in Michigan in July dropping off Julia at medical school. I knew her roommate's dad is an orthopedic surgeon in New York and trained at the hospital where I had my repair. It didn't take him long to ask about my scars as we all unpacked boxes and set up the apartment. 

"Who did that?" he wanted to know. 

I told him, knowing he'd know the name. 

"When?" he asked. 

I told him, not expecting the response. 

"I was his resident," he said. 

"You operated on my knee?" I was a doctor's daughter. I knew who did a lot of the work in operating rooms. 

"Probably," he said. 

We both stared at each other. What? Wait... What?!?!? 

In moments, he offered me a new knee, and six months later... I have one! 

Small world! And a great new friend! 

Slice of Life 2025: 2 of 31- Ten minutes can be a very long time

Throughout the month of March, I am participating in the annual Slice of Life Story Challenge, and even hosted by the team at Two Writing Teachers. Every day in March, I will share a story and comment on the stories of other participants. Please join us in writing, sharing, reading, and commenting!

"Ten minutes. Three times a day. The most important thing you'll do."

Those were the words of my knee doctor. The one who replaced my left knee on Wednesday. 

"Just lie on your stomach with your feet hanging over the edge and let gravity do the work."

Ahhh. The misuse of just. 

There is nothing that is just about lying on my stomach with my lower legs hanging over the edge for ten minutes. 

During today's third session, the sofa filled in for the bed, and Clare and Larkin joined me in the good times. (I've linked their blog home pages because they are also slicers, and I would not be surprised if this moment in time showed up in a future post for one of them.) Clare started in a plank. I appreciated that, although let me be clear... it is not the equivalent. Larkin kept time and cheered. I might have sworn at her when only two minutes had passed since it should have been twenty. Clare stopped planking at around minute #5 and then made it her business to distract me by kneading the knots in my back. She found it very funny when my moans changed pitches when she found an especially good knot to dig into. 

"I'm distracting you," she said. "Making the time go by faster."

How could there be still another three minutes?!?

I thought about calling it a full session at minute 9. Isn't that a 90% and an A? But the daughters weren't going for that. You can do anything for 60 seconds, they told me. And I did. 

This will be easier tomorrow. 

Slice of Life 2025: 1 of 31- Let's get this started!

Throughout the month of March, I am participating in the annual Slice of Life Story Challenge, and even hosted by the team at Two Writing Teachers. Every day in March, I will share a story and comment on the stories of other participants. Please join us in writing, sharing, reading, and commenting!

We have an annual debate in our house around this time of year as to when Larkin and I first started writing in the SOLSC. I think she was fifteen, and I think I had been at it for a year before she started. She's 28 now, so for Larkin, over half of her Marches are documented in slices. I love that. I also love that two of her three sisters, Julia and Clare, have also joined in past years-- it's become a family affair that we all look forward to. Who knows? Maybe even my youngest daughter will try it out this year, but I'll wait to see before I shout her out. If anyone needs insights from the 20-somethings, I recommend my daughters' posts; they are much funnier and quippier than mine! 

This year, as I've done in many years, I've collected nuggets throughout February, preparing and arming myself with ideas for days of nothing and even posts for days of nuttiness. The truth is I have a lot of time right now. 

Here are some things I've thought about during recuperation over the last few weeks. Some are metaphorical, and some have direct implications for teaching and writing. 

1. My word for 2025 is heal, and it's been great so far. I had minor toe surgery in January to prepare for major knee surgery on 2/26. There's been some other physical healing needing to happen for my daughters, as well, so the focus on it is working. 
2. Heal has lots of different meanings and connotations. I like that, too. 
3. Toes are small, but they support a lot. Don't underestimate their importance. 
4. It's a lot easier for me to help than to ask for help. 
5. Bodies forget VERY quickly what they're supposed to do when they're given a chance to. 
6. Even quadriceps appreciate a warning that they're about to do something hard. 
7. You can be working... REALLY WORKING... without moving at all. 
8. Sometimes doing nothing feels a lot better than doing something, but that's not the best thing. 

I'm excited to read and comment this morning. March is a time for connecting and reconnecting, and I love that!