By English Faculty Natalia Trevino
Christy Schmidt Passed Away Oct. 1, 2014
Yesterday
You walked from your car from the parking lot.
We all did, and we unlocked the slick doors to our offices,
Sipped at the rims of our morning cups.
Had planned a Monday and Tuesday already,
Were on the verge of another Wednesday. You may have kissed
your son goodbye, thought about his shoes,
how he’d outgrown them already and the first report card not out yet.
You may have thought about how expensive his shoes will get.
How you don’t care if they get expensive.
How you will work harder if that is how things will be.
You may have remembered his reading. Asked, was he really
doing okay in second grade. We talked once how you wondered
if he was going to be good at math like you had been as a child,
at counting, at numbers, at how they made sense of the world,
with all the multiplying and dividing around you.
How if we can all just see the prime number,
Everything will work out. You saw it with your students too, our students.
You knew they could do the math if they trusted it
The numbers are not liars. The numbers are constants– in most cases.
As long as we learn the formula, we will get it right.
The key is remembering the formula when we need it.
The key is learn it before you need it. The key is having a teacher
who understands the formula, who can make it sound like something,
like cake layers, like car travel, like something they already know.
But you did not know how they would factor this in,
How any of us could factor it in. We do not know either,
We cannot factor it in. We cannot factor it out.
Yesterday, I saw the shine in the strands of your hair,
Bright as the polish on a stream of milk. I saw the freckles again,
Warming like small suns, like small tanning flower petals opening below your eyes.
I saw your steady morning stroll to Juniper Hall.
We talked about graduate school, our sons, things we were counting on.
Yesterday we were all counting too, counting on each other,
On the schedule, the lesson plans, the lunch we might have with our friends.
We all tell each other counting is good
as long as the formula doesn’t change.
Today, we want to uncount. We want to tell the numbers they are wrong,
The numbers of times we re-live them.
The numbers of times we have a thought that says you aren’t here with us anymore.
The numbers of times we saw you smile and did not tell you all that your smile was to the world.
At the airport today, they are looking for passengers Kelly, Anthony, and Winn.
And all I hear is Kelli. Wesley. Cindi.
I want them to call your name on the intercom, to check you in on my flight.
I want them to tell me you are here, missing your left shoe, forgetting your laptop at security, delayed on this same flight as me.
I want you to be the one sneaking an e-cig in the corner.
I want you to be the one in her office when I get back.
I want to tell your son about counting, that sometimes
We can count backwards, back to yesterday.
Yesterday you were surrounded by laughter.
Yesterday you were getting that kiss.
Yesterday is when we had to start counting again.