28 Days and Counting...

08/14/2010

28 Days and Counting...

...of rain in Anchorage. 28 soggy summer-less days in a row.

Today started out beautiful. High clouds and sunshine. By noon it started to sprinkle. Now its just damp like a big ol' gray sponge is stuck in the sky.

No wonder why I feel a bit like a mess to mop.

But sometimes it helps to cry.

On Thursday, when I learned that not only was Olive's day care closing, but that they didn't have a spot for her at their other site either, I sort of lost it in my own blubbery way. I walked home from work and Nick made me a margarita. And then I remembered that the owner's husband would be at the Friends church that night for a tag sale--because you know when you close a school due to financial troubles, well then you have a lot of stuff to sell. And since his wife still hadn't returned any of my calls, I decided to walk over and talk to him. I'd met him in January at a community council meeting when he represented the Montessori' school's plan to move into our neighborhood. I spoke out in support. I wanted Olive nearby. I believed in his mission.

So I walk down to the basement and he's standing in a cluttered room with a clipboard. A blond girl plays with a wooden ramp on the ground behind him.

"If you're here to buy a kid she's not for sale," he says with a smile.

"Actually I'm here to talk to you."

"Ok," he says, part question part statement, and walks with me into another over-filled room.

"My daughter Olive...," I start before the tears come, "Is enrolled here and I just found out yesterday, the day before returning to work full time, that your closing the center."

"You're going to have to talk to"

"No, I'm talking to you," I say before he can brush me off. "You are who I first met when you canvassed the neighborhood and then I met you again at the community council meeting and you need to know how heartbroken I am by the decision and how unprofessionally it was handled...."

And so he listened. And apologized. And took my name and number and promised to call me the next day.

And he did.

So now we have a couple options for Olive. I still have some research to do, and she won't be a five-minute walk from home or work, but she won't be out on the street either.

Which is good because the street's not really a safe place for a baby.

Sometimes anger that comes forth with sobs instead of stones can get you places, open a door, or a heart, instead of closing both.

Now how about some sunshine.

Posted at 05:15 PM | Permalink