The Piper on the Berm

Life has been pretty intense lately. Stress has been following me around like one of David Letterman's stalkers. The primary stressor has been Greek. Missing one day of work means losing a week. My schedule breaks down like this.

School, 15 hours a week, not counting homework time.

Work, 35 to 40 hours a week, all nights primarily.

Family, and life in general, Full time.

Like one of the Flying Wallendas, one little gust of wind can push me over the edge, and into the abyss. If crisis occurs it completely throws me off. Weekend before last I broke a rib. Down time? A day in a half. Therefore, I have been playing Greek catch up for a week. Three am has been my bed time.

Today, I finished catching up, and walked over to my Greek professor's office. On the way I discovered the piper playing on the berm. One could almost imagine the clans gathering for battle on the Scottish moor. I love bagpipes. In fact, when I die, my only last wish is to have them played at my funeral. (morbid I know) I want Amazing Grace piped when they lower me into the ground. Oops, I'm digressing.

I never have time to stop and just be. Today, when I heard the piper, I stopped, plopped down on the grass like a hippy at Woodstock, and was still. The sun warmed my face, the grass was semi-green, and in that moment, all was right with the world.