This is not forever; children will return to school

I walked into a room today in which time had stood still. The calendar still read March. A morning message was still written on the board.

While this was the classroom that 24 of us called home, it did not feel like home. The hum of life and the echoes of laughter were missing. The heartbeat was missing. The children were missing.

I’ve often thought of the beautiful souls have graced this room in its lifetime. Of the discoveries made, the moments of inspiration, and the obstacles overcome. How many smiles and hugs these walls have silently stood witness to. But today was different. The children were not here.

As I packed boxes, I reflected on how different it felt this time around. I was not packing for a relaxing summer after goodbye hugs had been given and end-of-year picnics had been had. I was packing alone, in a mask with unanswered questions and empty arms.

But then I reached for the small box on the top of a shelf and smiled. This was my “Happy Box,” the place where I put the little things that made me smile throughout the year. The handdrawn shark, the sweet poem, the thank-you note from colleague-turned-bestfriend.

And I smiled. Because I realized that the children are here. They are always here. They are here in the worndown crayons. They are here in the dog-eared pages of the books. They are here in the memories. And they are here in my Happy Box.

I realized that this is not forever. The sun will rise and the soul and light will return to this room. And we will celebrate. And we will learn. And we will hug. And we will make the heart of this room beat again. The children will be here.

ELYSE THIMONS Plum