My little dog, Teddy, tugged on his leash, interrupting my thoughts as we walked through my condo complex. The mornings were our time together and Teddy, a Lhasa Apo, got impatient if he didn’t have my full, undivided attention.
“Sorry, Teddy,” I said with a small smile. My thoughts were all over the place this morning. The public school where I worked as a special education teacher was on break. I was thankful for the time off, but I felt completely stressed about the prospect of returning to work. My job was challenging. Too challenging sometimes. Resources were limited. Class sizes were big. I felt all alone in the classroom, like I had no support. How long could I keep going on like this? I was watching out for my students. But who was watching out for me? Teddy and I cut through one of the parking lots on the complex grounds. I caught sight of one of my neighbors, Mr. Simon. He was retired, but still got up early every morning to check on one of the businesses he owned. I caught his eye and waved.
I felt the leash tug again. Teddy wanted up on the grass embankment just behind where Mr. Simon’s car was parked. I let him up, reached into my coat for a plastic bag and—
Step up onto the grass! a voice said from out of nowhere. It was so clear, so firm, that I had no choice but to obey. I jumped up onto the embankment. Just as I did, something hard and cold lightly grazed my left heel.
I spun around and gasped. It was the bumper of Mr. Simon’s car! He’d accidently rear-ended the curb of the embankment, exactly where I’d been standing seconds earlier. He must’ve not seen me there. What if I hadn’t stepped up on the grass? What if I hadn’t heard that voice? What if…?
I returned to school a few days later with a renewed sense of purpose. I didn’t feel so alone anymore. I knew now, without a doubt, someone was watching out for me.
