A Novel Creation www.WatersWords.com

The Decision Like most schools, Prishtina High School has a couple of weeks off over the holidays. Since the day I arrived, I’ve had people ask me if I would be traveling home for Christmas. “No.” I made that decision before I came to Kosovo.   I know myself. I made a commitment to the school. Going home would be fun but seeing my family may make it difficult to return to my teaching. I would return . I know that. But I may do it under duress. All it would take would be one of my grandchildren begging me to stay and I would feel like a heel for flying off again. Already, my four-year-old granddaughter asks me to come home every time we talk on the phone. The Plan Many of my school friends planned trips for Christmas. I wasn’t sure who would be around so I formed a plan. For my own good mental health, I planned projects I wanted to complete over the winter break. The list was much too long, so I pared it down to four projects I need to complete: Two for the s...

December 18 th was my wedding anniversary. My husband and I would have been married forty-six years. Sounds like a lifetime to most people I talk with these days. Turns out…it was. Tom died three years ago from injuries he sustained in a bicycle accident. Many of my readers know that. What you may not realize is that he died only weeks before our wedding anniversary. But this isn’t a story about loss. It is a story about gain. About resiliency. A story about love, and care, and friendship. A story about connecting. My wedding anniversary is exactly one week before Christmas. The Palm Tree Three weeks after Tom’s death, my oldest daughter and I went to a “grieving through the holidays” session at a local church. A woman there offered to pray with us. We held hands and she prayed. As she neared the end of her prayer, she asked God to bring an image of a palm tree to us whenever we were hurting. Allison and I glanced at each other. A palm tree? Even the woman who prayed coul...

I teach fourth grade at Prishtina High School in Kosovo. Most Americans I talk with fall into one of two camps. Either they think of Kosovo as a war torn country or they have never heard of the tiny nation in southeastern Europe. The beautiful capital city of Prishtina with its cosmopolitan feel doesn’t look like a war torn city, but the hearts of the Albanian Kosovars whose roots run deep in this region bear the scars of war. The war is part of their family history. Despite its tone, this story isn’t about the sacrifices of the past. It is about the leaders of the future. My class. The children in my class amaze me. They are industrious and smart. They love to learn. They are nine and ten-year-olds who can speak, read and write in at least two languages. They are deep thinkers. And they care. Every afternoon I read aloud to my students. I started the school year reading Island of the Blue Dolphins by Scott O’Dell. My fifteen fourth graders listened intently e...

I continue to have new and interesting experiences here in Kosovo. For example, I was invited to an event known as the Ballo Shqiptare . Don’t worry. I couldn’t pronounce it either. A lot of famous people attended. Of course the only one I recognized was the prime minister. I didn’t exactly know what it was, but I could tell by the invitation it was a very special affair. One of the organizers is the mom to one of my fourth graders. She also happens to be a former Miss Kosovo and fairly well connected in the social and political realm. Of course if you met her you would only recognize her beauty, both inside and out. She’s a humble and sweet woman. I was honored to be included. As I said, I could tell it was a classy event… meaning I probably needed to get a new dress. And shoes. My friend Valmire said the Ballo was “fancy-fancy.” Her dress was a long evening gown and she already had plans for the hairdresser. My friend Grace agreed to take me shopping. This turned o...