Cache Less on 7

Amy looked into the bathroom mirror and pulled her hair back for work. As she spun a hair tie deftly through her wavy locks she gazed at the gray that shot from her scalp randomly, highlighting her light brown hair. It was more and more visible, but she refused to color it. She told herself she’d earned every one of those gray hairs. Satisfied that she looked as good as she could, she turned from the mirror.

A gust of wind whipped brown, yellow, and orange leaves past her bathroom window. She paused for a moment to watch the tenacious oak in her back yard. The wind stirred and whipped and pulled leaves from the maple, ash, and birch trees at the edge of the yard, but the oak held her ground. She would keep her precious few leaves throughout the winter. She would never let go of her remnants of summer, no matter what Mother Nature threw at her.

Amy shuffled close to the window to survey her well-manicured lawn. It was strewn with leaves of all colors. They would have to lie as the wind tossed them until the weekend. She noticed the small oak at the base of the tree. It seemed to learn that oaky-tenacity early. It was a new generation, but it held its leaves as the most valuable of resources, just as its parent did.

She smiled and strode to the kitchen to grab her briefcase. The first day of school was always a busy one, and she had thirty-two third graders that would be looking to her for education and guidance.