Thirst.

There’s something tapping. There’s a knock; each time I attempt to greet the hammering echo, I can only grasp emptiness. I am certain something vast is lingering, I just do not know what it is. It’s creating a mystery and curiosity that is flowing through me similar to a rushing river. I can’t find the beginning or the end, but I hear it, and it’s alive. 

I believe this river of mine has been flowing for years. The ebb and flow is similar to the ocean tide. It’s clean, then dirty, cloudy, then clear. It’s traveling over smooth and rough terrain shifting speeds and turning corners. It’s got a hunger to trek through mountains and meadows leaving heavy rocks behind yet pushing tiny pebbles forward. This river of mine is like an itch I can’t scratch. I know it exists I just can’t reach it. 

Quite the dramatic intro, I know, but it’s sincere. Of course, there is no river flowing through me, (besides the occasional times I’ve peed my pants), but there is something brewing and growing within my head, heart, and soul. There are things I want to do and places I want to see that move beyond where I am right now. The most frustrating part is that I’m the only one aware, and still feeling clueless.

Let’s dissect what I do know and search for truth and evidence. This authentic feeling directly relates to my profession and hobbies. Although I am still new, I’m learning to love to teach and get pleasure from feeling proud, needed, and productive. I enjoy the diverse community, I savor the warm tender feelings of watching a kid understand fractions for the first time, and I find the constant sound of little laughs irresistible. I envision myself teaching for quite some time. However, I see teacher and _______ defining me. I have this ache. This hammering echo. This rushing river. This desperate volcano. Whatever THIS is, is beginning to surface;  I’m vulnerably grasping to find the safe doorway in the midst of an earthquake. My adrenalin is pumping and I’m LOVING the rush.

Come and get me.