What a difference a year makes...

...twenty four little hours. Oh wait, singing it won't work. Its still the title of the blog though. Truly, what a difference a year makes.

Today in 2005, I was pulling into the Mt. Hood Community College parking lot for the first day of classes. I froze. Completely and totally froze. Called my husband from the car, crying, telling him I couldn't get out, couldn't go to class, couldn't do any of this. I was a basket case. I had not been in a classroom since March of 1981 and it wasn't looking too good for me to darken the door to one in September of 2005 either!

Long story short, my husband talked me out of the car, and into my math class....and now, one year, and five A's and two B's later, I can't imagine NOT being in school. So today? Well, it was no problem getting out of the car and strolling into my math class...and as I type that here, I truly can't believe I am saying it.

Going back to school for my degree has been a goal of mine since Noelle was 2. She's 21 now. Its always been out there as something I not only should, but want, to do. Like with most things, the first step was the hardest. Now it is almost a piece of cake.

The schedule gets a little crazy. And community college or no, it is spendy. Almost $300 today alone just for books! Finding time to do the homework is a battle unto itself, but I am hopeful that will settle in in a few weeks. But even with all that, I still love being there - I love the atmosphere, the people, the teachers, and energy in the air, and I love, and I mean LOVE, the learning. It is just the coolest, coolest thing to be 45 years old and still learning so very, very much.

Shauna is my inspiration for my schooling. She would have been 45 on Saturday (the 23rd) and I still cry everyday for her. I just miss her so much. Today, on the way back from school, I was listening to one of the cd's she made me. It was from 2004, and is the only "post-cancer" collection of music she put together for me. (The others were made before the cancer diagnosis.) It is obvious that something was different - she was different. You can't go through what she went through and not be changed. But it was a good different - a deeper, more thought-ful, softer, more introspective and authentic different. I cried all the way home, missing her, knowing she was there with me, knowing how proud she is of my slow and steady plugging away at my degree, and, again, missing her so much.

Yeh, a year makes a lot of difference for some things. Others, well, not so much.