At last, the clock's minute hand would have clicked off the last and longest minute of the day, and the liberating bell would have rung. But I never joined the rush to the doors. I remember that at this moment, I always wanted to savor the anticipation, freed of any distracting tasks. I would wait until the turmoil had died down and the halls emptied out, and then go out into the sparsely populated school yard where a few boys might linger playing games, with puffs of dust rising from the trails of shot marbles, and the empty swings creaked as they were moved by the breeze. I seldom took the bus home, but walked slowly through the quiet streets, pausing here and there at my favorite haunts. I would gather a few honeysuckle blossoms from a mass of brush that hung down a hillside, check the progress of the blackberries that grew in a small arroyo, pet a particular dog who always napped by his front gate on pleasant afternoons, and maybe stop at the corner grocery store to buy a Freeze-ee bar (cheaper than Popsicles) and eat it while sitting on the steps of the church next door as the afternoon shadows stretched and the leaves rustled. I don't remember if I knew it at the time, but those were perfect afternoons. I'm sure I never knew that they would return to my mind so many years later, hundreds of miles away, recalled by the breezes of other sunlit spring days.
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- rejectomorph (
flying_blind) wrote,
rejectomorph
flying_blind
Perfect
At last, the clock's minute hand would have clicked off the last and longest minute of the day, and the liberating bell would have rung. But I never joined the rush to the doors. I remember that at this moment, I always wanted to savor the anticipation, freed of any distracting tasks. I would wait until the turmoil had died down and the halls emptied out, and then go out into the sparsely populated school yard where a few boys might linger playing games, with puffs of dust rising from the trails of shot marbles, and the empty swings creaked as they were moved by the breeze. I seldom took the bus home, but walked slowly through the quiet streets, pausing here and there at my favorite haunts. I would gather a few honeysuckle blossoms from a mass of brush that hung down a hillside, check the progress of the blackberries that grew in a small arroyo, pet a particular dog who always napped by his front gate on pleasant afternoons, and maybe stop at the corner grocery store to buy a Freeze-ee bar (cheaper than Popsicles) and eat it while sitting on the steps of the church next door as the afternoon shadows stretched and the leaves rustled. I don't remember if I knew it at the time, but those were perfect afternoons. I'm sure I never knew that they would return to my mind so many years later, hundreds of miles away, recalled by the breezes of other sunlit spring days.
-
Reset Twenty-Two, Day Six
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Reset Twenty-Two, Day Four
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