The Honeymoon is…Over.

You’d think I would know. I’d recognize the signs and remember the patterns.

You’d think I would learn. It’s not my first rodeo and I’m no spring chicken.

You’d think I would understand enough to not fall for the same old sweet lines and dashing smile. The cut of the tailored suit or the faint scent of subtle perfume should not be able to fool me again. Shiny pencil boxes, stiff binders and eager questions should not have such power to veil the truth that always lies beneath.

What’s the saying? Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me (twenty-two times)? Shame, shame, shame on me.

The honeymoon is, indeed, over.

But…

Just like every other year –and each year to come– I will dust myself off, pack up the formal attire, sweep up the confetti and put away the fancy dishes… and get back to the core of what is needed to make this work. I will remember that the true joy is in what comes after: seeing the changes, witnessing the growth, moving through the muck and watching the lotus finally bloom.