Saraam

Three more minutes. 8 more tests to grade. 35 to record in the book. 1 lesson to plan for tomorrow. Power out. No moon tonight. Pitch black. I don’t like being told when I have to go to bed. Even when I was a little girl, I would sneak downstairs to ask why people die, or where babies come from in the hopes that it might spark a lengthy conversation so as to avoid having to be put to bed prematurely. But here – lights out – 10 pm, which in my opinion is much too early. I sit behind my desk in the complete dark for at least a minute or two waiting for my eyes to adjust and optimistically hoping that it might just be the generator turning over to island power. I haven’t yet determined if it is because I’m too lazy to get a flashlight, or because I love the challenge of it, but as it becomes apparent that power will not be returning, I decide to head back to my room – an extraordinary feat that has become routine. I put my pen down and leave the papers exactly as they are. I swing my hand around my desk about six inches above the piles of books that are strewn across it to locate my Nalgene which is never farther than an arms length away and is the only thing protruding from the surface of my desk. With my left hand I swing open the door of my desk and I identify my ukulele by the awkward sound it makes when my right hand goes to grab it. Standing up, I try to maintain balance as I grope my way over to the fan to shut it off so that it doesn’t waste energy when the power comes back on. Nearly knocking it over, but still proud of myself for remembering, I reach for the base – 1^st, 2^nd, 3^rd, no - 4^th button shuts it off. I shuffle step back to my desk which appears to have moved from where I remember it last, but with minimal disorientation I slide my hand along the edge until I find the door frame. I reach behind me and after a few tries make it to the doorknob and close the door behind me. The teacher’s hallway really isn’t very long, but in the dark can be treacherous. Switch from the right side (where my office is located) to the left side because there are shelves that line the right side of the hall which can be painful when you take one of those to the ribs. Lightly tapping my hand against the wall I walk at a relatively normal pace – straight forward - which is safe so long as there are no stray zorries (flip-flops) lurking about – they tend to throw off your gait. Oh geez, I forgot to turn out the light. Turn around. Go back. Nicky’s office. Dwyer’s office. Mine. Find the doorknob. Crack the door. Reach my hand in. Up. Up. Little more. Flick the switch. Close the door. Switch walls. Walk. Walk. Walk. Teacher’s Resource Room Door. Walk. Walk. Walk. Alright it should be right about here. Corner. Turn to the left. With my arms flailing in front of me, I’m careful not to walk into the doors that lead to the teacher’s hallway, which may or may not be closed. There it is. Tonight – one door open, one closed. I shake my water bottle to determine whether or not I need water, and I figure I should refill just to be safe. Hands still flailing I try to locate the door that leads to the kitchen – normally open. Oops the wall. Left. Left. Okay. I’ve got some breathing room, but still keep the limbs flailing to locate the door to the dining room. That one is always open unless the wind blows it shut. There’s the frame. Turn to the left, but avoid clipping my hip on the table and avoid…….Damnit face first into the concrete pillar. Regroup. Walk. Walk. Walk. Locate the water jug. I can tell the water bottle is under the spout because there is no longer the sound of water spilling on the floor and the bottle is getting heavier. Screw on the lid. Walk. Walk. Walk. DAMNIT concrete pillar AGAIN. Door Frame. I swing my feet around the floor trying to find my zorries. I find one. Nope too big. I step on another pair. They feel pink. Slide them on. Disoriented again. Arms out. Bulletin board. Walk straight. Walk back through the open door to the kitchen. Display case on the right. Touch. Touch. Touch. Edge. Now walk forward and you’ll hit the concrete railing. There it is. Slide right and you’ll feel it start to slope. That’s the start of the stairs. Down. Down. Down. Just at the last step the railing levels off so you don’t over step. Flat. Flat. Flat. Down the 2^nd set of stairs. Down. Down. Down. Alright now I need to walk out far enough to walk exactly down the middle of the hallway. If I walk too far to either side, I’ll kick the potted plants, or one will brush up against my leg which is terrifying in the dark. Arms out just in case. Walk. Walk. Walk. Walk. I can smell fresh air. I made it outside. Oh bother - I always forget that step there. One more. Big step to avoid the puddle that is always at the door. Shuffling along I zig-zag in the direction of my room which is faintly outlined by the light of the stars. I’ve become accustomed to where the puddles are and where I need to step to avoid them. A little more to the right. Careful of the rocks – no stubbed toes tonight. Oops wet feet- it must have rained. That puddle was a little bigger than I thought. Walk. Walk. Walk. Coming down the home stretch. If I walk to the right it is a little more gradual, a few more rocks for traction and a little safer. Baby steps down the little hill. Baby steps. Baby steps. Almost there. One little hop and I made it to the concrete walk. Up the stairs. No problem. Around back of the top landing. Fumble for keys. Get in the lock. Try again. Get in the lock. Try again. Click. Turn. Place my water bottle in the designated spot on my dresser inches to the right of my door. Identify the box of matches always on the very corner. Pull one out. Strike it. Light.