It’s a week into the break, and the school feels like another world, a place I know only from memory now. This poem is not a finished product, I think I cut more than I shared, but I’m tired of messing with it so you get what you get…

Resting

I woke this morning
to the slow crawl of light
creeping across the windowsill—
no harried rush to get out the door,
no list of tasks
waiting to be ticked off.
Instead, the warmth of the holiday,
the comfort of a time that stretches
like a blanket across the days.
A breath, deep and slow,
without the weight of tomorrow
pressing on my shoulders.

It’s strange, this feeling of not being needed,
of not needing to be anywhere,
but I let it wash over me.
There is peace in the stillness,
a kind of grace
that I can only feel in these empty weeks,
when the halls are quiet
and I am no one’s principal,
just a person with time to breathe,
and nothing in particular to do.
I think I’ll enjoy it while it lasts.