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.
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.
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Reset Seventeen, Day Sixteen
No nap Wednesday evening, because I slept the middle of the day away and got up at half past two. I might actually get to sleep before five o'clock…
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Reset Seventeen, Day Fifteen
Once again I've forgotten when I went to sleep, but I woke up around two o'clock in the morning. Tuesday was quite warm, and I kept the windows open…
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Reset Seventeen, Day Fourteen
I don't recall the exact hour, but it was well before midnight Monday, when I felt the sudden need for a nap. I expected it to last until perhaps two…
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