My life is like an old-fashioned chalkboard, remember those? The green ones that you had to wash with water to get clean? And then you used the chalkboard erasers until they were white and smacked them together outside behind the school to clean them? Yes, like that.
The board represents the things about me which won’t change—like memories, faith, my birthday, my penchant for sugar, and true love. Oh, the board may get a little older; may get a little worn around the edges, and the metal ledge where the chalk sits might need some maintenance, but the board will always be the foundation, the slate on which I can work. But the everyday use of the board, now that is where we get funny and messy and creative and frustrated and artistic and brilliant and mad enough to break those little colored sticks of—what is chalk anyway? But every day I put up a new title or lesson; I label the board with the day’s new theme or goal–today is “Write Damn It!” I write or scribble or work out problems; I can teach or learn or transcribe a quote, in cursive of course. Every few days, in between runs, I wipe stuff off and start over and erase until the repeating white cloud gets whiter and whiter and harder to write on top of. Then I finally get to lace up for a run outdoors where I wipe the board down with water, clear the slate, smack the erasers together until no more chalky clouds appear, maintaining the board the best I can so it can withstand time and the lessons (painful or otherwise) and work (painful or otherwise) that each day brings.
I bet you readers have something that erases your chalkboard. C’mon, what is it?