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ordinary. But ordinary was nice for a change.
    The first highlight came during Health class with Liz. The class was officially called ‘Mental Wellness and Relaxation’ and when Liz asked me to register for the class with her, I figured some wellness and relaxation was just what the doctor ordered, literally.
    The first day of class, our mad-scientist-like female teacher, with a short, stocky build and black hair that looked like a rat’s nest, had us karate chopping square blocks of wood. The goal was to channel our energy and ultimately split the board in two.
    We started out by lying on the floor as our teacher walked us through an imagery exercise that taught how to center one’s energy. Then, one by one, she’d call a student to the front of the class, hold the piece of wood on either end and, while the student tried to summon up some power, she’d encourage them to break through the board with the palm of their hand.
    The class gasped when the biggest guy in the room went to break the board and instead knocked the teacher flat on her butt. But she was the type who could take a few punches, and dish out a few as well.
    When it was Liz’s turn she went up and did a few martial arts moves before trying to break the board. Liz must’ve had some martial arts experience because I could tell they were legitimate moves, but that only embellished her performance somehow, and out came my smothered sputter of laughter.
    When the teacher praised Liz for being able to search for her center and then admonished all of us to do the same and then told some of us to leave the room if we couldn’t be serious, Liz pressed her palms together and bowed to the teacher. She bowed. I couldn’t remember if I had ever been kicked out of class, but I didn’t think I had ever been kicked out the first day. I had to physically turn around and clamp my lips together.
    Even more amusing was how Liz’s five minute preshow to find her center produced an unbroken board and a sore hand, and my ten second recollection of Barbie in the window produced a clean split.
    The second highlight was later on in the week. Drowsily walking across campus after my Statistics class, I found myself tired and searching for a spot on the lawn to stretch out and take a power nap.
    Filling my senses when I sprawled out, was the smell of rich, damp grass. As I turned to get more comfortable, I noticed a clearing on top of a small hill where a little white office sat. The first door I excitedly recalled as the office of Teacher Jerry, a favorite professor from my Creative Writing class. The nap would be forfeited to a visit with a special friend who was hopefully still around.
     
    The walk up the slight green hill was soothing, as if the idea of being in Professor’s presence lifted the burdens off the back and replaced tension with peace. It felt almost magical, but in a realistic sort of way.
    “Heather,” Professor greeted when the door opened. “I’ve been expecting you.”
    “Professor?”
    “Yesterday I noticed a student that looked very much like one of my favorites from a few years back, walking across campus. I was correct, then.”
    A big, comfortable smile. “Yes, I’m back.”
    “Good to have you,” he said kindly.
    With Professor’s understanding character, there wasn’t a need for explanations or details, even after going AWOL for so long. Being back was all that mattered. And because of the plethora of writing requirements in Professor’s Creative Writing class from three years ago, he was fully aware of the plans to finish college, the less than ideal growing up years, the unhappy family life, Mom’s death, and the relationship with Nick.
    “How are you?” he asked. “All recovered?”
    There was a moment’s pause. “Recovered?”
    He went on, “Two years and seven months in a coma is a long time, after all.”
    The shocked face was response enough.
    “Let’s see,” he paused for a moment to recollect. “As I remember, it