The wood ducks have arrived at Rocky Mountain Lake! There they were yesterday, floating nonchalantly among the coots, mallards, gadwalls, and shovelers, resplendent in all their beauty. This was no ordinary group, mind you, as some common golden eyes, buffleheads, along with a pair of canvas backs and even a fleet of hooded mergansers were also close by. It’s as though they all descended on the frosty lake the same chilled morning. Bingo! This is why I walk more than for the exercise.
I remember arriving at a YEA (Youth Employment Academy) staff meeting several years ago announcing in glee that I had seen the wood ducks on my walk just that morning. People looked at me with expressions that communicated, so what? I attempted to explain my excitement at how elaborately colored these little marvels are and the adorable hairdo on the males, but eyes glazed over and yawns erupted.
I mean, look at the picture! An artist can’t even replicate the details of color and lines that look like they’ve been applied with the tiniest of paint brushes. These bursts of color rival the painted buntings of Texas. And what do you think of that brushed back ‘do’?
Later that morning my office mate, Shawna, thanked me for telling her about ‘that duck’. I figured she was just trying to ease my discomfort for being recognized as a twerpy bird lover. “No, no” she insisted. “I’ve noticed how pretty the ducks are at a lake near my house.”
Shawna, she was still reeling from the unexpected deaths of both her mother and not soon after, her sister. I liked thinking she might be walking and soaking up some nature for comfort.
We had been working together ever since I moved to Denver almost six years ago. First stop, PS1 Charter School where Shawna’s title became HOS, or Head of Stuff. And boy, was she. She handled hundreds of details, never losing that gorgeous smile of hers amidst the chaos that was indigenous to PS1. Then we headed to YEA, Shawna again handling a multitude of office details while I taught reading and writing to youth in a culinary program and to high school drop outs trying desperately to catch up on literacy skills.
The day her sister died Shawna’s dog ran out of her house and was hit and killed by a car. Too much was happening, too soon and too fast. She told me this story swiveling side to side in her office chair, in a somewhat disconnected and numb manner, indicating to me that she was simply trying to survive overwhelming pain.
YEA closed down, and Shawna and I were soon colleagues once again with an alternative licensure program, Teach and Lead (http://www.teachandlead.org/). Shawna came on board later than I did, once Karla and Lisa, the directors of Teach and Lead, realized that Shawna was not doing well and convinced her to come to work for them. Months had passed and I didn’t recognize her at first, she had become so thin. Although her face still lit up whenever the subject of her daughter Evelyn arose, the light faded too quickly when she started trying to make sense out of any work that had been asked of her.
During my scurries in and out of the office, Shawna routinely reached out and hugged me so fiercely for so long that I sometimes became uncomfortable. She was holding on, almost begging. Regrettably I let myself believe I was too busy, all those things to do, places to get to. How often I hopped in my car, Shawna having even followed me out to it, feeling badly about driving away from this woman in such pain. I was at loss as to what else to do, as were others at work. We all talked at length with her. Counseling had been arranged and medical help encouraged, but Shawna remained entrenched in her grief.
I remember arriving at a YEA (Youth Employment Academy) staff meeting several years ago announcing in glee that I had seen the wood ducks on my walk just that morning. People looked at me with expressions that communicated, so what? I attempted to explain my excitement at how elaborately colored these little marvels are and the adorable hairdo on the males, but eyes glazed over and yawns erupted.
I mean, look at the picture! An artist can’t even replicate the details of color and lines that look like they’ve been applied with the tiniest of paint brushes. These bursts of color rival the painted buntings of Texas. And what do you think of that brushed back ‘do’?
Later that morning my office mate, Shawna, thanked me for telling her about ‘that duck’. I figured she was just trying to ease my discomfort for being recognized as a twerpy bird lover. “No, no” she insisted. “I’ve noticed how pretty the ducks are at a lake near my house.”
Shawna, she was still reeling from the unexpected deaths of both her mother and not soon after, her sister. I liked thinking she might be walking and soaking up some nature for comfort.
We had been working together ever since I moved to Denver almost six years ago. First stop, PS1 Charter School where Shawna’s title became HOS, or Head of Stuff. And boy, was she. She handled hundreds of details, never losing that gorgeous smile of hers amidst the chaos that was indigenous to PS1. Then we headed to YEA, Shawna again handling a multitude of office details while I taught reading and writing to youth in a culinary program and to high school drop outs trying desperately to catch up on literacy skills.
The day her sister died Shawna’s dog ran out of her house and was hit and killed by a car. Too much was happening, too soon and too fast. She told me this story swiveling side to side in her office chair, in a somewhat disconnected and numb manner, indicating to me that she was simply trying to survive overwhelming pain.
YEA closed down, and Shawna and I were soon colleagues once again with an alternative licensure program, Teach and Lead (http://www.teachandlead.org/). Shawna came on board later than I did, once Karla and Lisa, the directors of Teach and Lead, realized that Shawna was not doing well and convinced her to come to work for them. Months had passed and I didn’t recognize her at first, she had become so thin. Although her face still lit up whenever the subject of her daughter Evelyn arose, the light faded too quickly when she started trying to make sense out of any work that had been asked of her.
During my scurries in and out of the office, Shawna routinely reached out and hugged me so fiercely for so long that I sometimes became uncomfortable. She was holding on, almost begging. Regrettably I let myself believe I was too busy, all those things to do, places to get to. How often I hopped in my car, Shawna having even followed me out to it, feeling badly about driving away from this woman in such pain. I was at loss as to what else to do, as were others at work. We all talked at length with her. Counseling had been arranged and medical help encouraged, but Shawna remained entrenched in her grief.
At the end of this past May Shawna died of a respiratory infection that turned into pneumonia. She had retreated to home in the last few days where she wasn’t answering calls, was no longer reaching out. It seems like she gave in and let go of the weak hold she had on life, leaving so many of us with memories of her once healthy laugh and her dazzling smile. She was indeed one of the most striking women I have ever seen.Shawna came to mind yesterday when I spied the wood ducks. “Thank you for telling me about ‘that duck’,” I remembered her saying.
“They’re here, Shawna!” I found myself announcing out loud. “Can you see them?”
You write so beautifully! I can see the wood ducks and sadly, see Shawna reaching desperately for you. Thank you for sharing this memory of a life that would have been lost...but now will be remembered forever. I will keep a look out for the wood ducks!
ReplyDelete