Mira Posted February 16, 2006 Report Share Posted February 16, 2006 February 14 is just that to me; February 14. Just another Tuesday as it went. I worked most of the day and then sat around my house for a bit, but when 9 o'clock rolled around I headed out into the night since despite the day's lack of meaning for me, it did mean something to my two roommates, who wanted to celebrate it. Respecting their privacy I left before they got back from their dinner and a movie date. I drove around for a bit, got a bite to eat, put some gas in my tank, and decided to drive around a little more with my FM tuner turning the 101.9 radio frequency signal into pure, unadulterated jazz, the disk jockey speaking in hipster hues. Eventually I found myself killing the engine in the parking lot of my old elementary. If you haven't visited the foundation of youth years after you've left it let me tell you, going back to the old schoolyard after almost a decade is a trip. So many memories welled up, screaming to be released. It wasn't really sad in a tears kind of way, but more sad in a lost innocence kind of way, if one can tell the difference. George Constanza was right, life is pretty much backwards. I walked around that playground for almost an hour, remembering warm spring days lying in the grass, and cool autumn breezes that whipped boys playing ball and girls skipping rope. After covering all my old running, stomping, jumping and screaming grounds, I took a walk down the railroad tracks and just listened; the program for that night happened to be a brilliant mid-western symphony I hadn't heard in far too long. A train in the distance, the wind through the trees and over the lakes, chimes hanging outside homes ringing softly, the call of the warning bells as the gates lower, the roar of the train as it rips through town, and finally the empty silence in its wake, the combination gave Mozart a run for his money as far as my ears were concerned. A friend of mine lived not far from the tracks, and I made my towards his house, even though I knew I wouldn't be welcome. He had a love of his own to spend the night with, but I figured I'd swing by regardless, I didn't have time for being polite tonight. Instead of knocking on the door as I had originally intended though, I just peered through the window, I don't know why I did it. The scene inside was beautiful. Two kids sat on a sofa watching TV, flipping aimlessly through channels, melted into one another. The microwave dinged and they both slowly got up to sit at a table set with two plates, two knives, two forks, but only one glass of milk. They ate the most delicious meal of their lives, hamburger helper straight from the box washed down with that one glass of milk, and never tasted a bit of it. So poor, so in love, though fleeting it may be, their hands reached for each other's throughout the meal; their fingers danced together; their eyes played hide-and-seek. And when the meal was over, they retired to the back bedroom, and I took my cue to leave. I walked around town a little more, returned to the school and peeked in all the windows, peered in through all the doors. Read the words carved onto the stones so long ago; Attica High School, though it hadn't been a High School for something like forty years or more. I wondered about how many other boys had roared through its halls, how many girls had talked together in small groups, how many teaches had come and gone with the passing of years. What happened to all of them? They're shutting it down you know. In less then six months time they'll be closed for business, such wonderful business as its been. What ghosts will linger there, even after its gone? The rest of the night was pretty uneventful. I visited the old train station, its a unmanned facility now-a-days, free of a heart or thought. I doubt anyone has sat on that platform for years, no one rides the rails anymore. I drove past my high school, an eyeless building that cared little of its own appearance. And finally, after I had run out of memories to visit, I headed off into the night, and towards home. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Sweetcherrie Posted February 16, 2006 Report Share Posted February 16, 2006 Left me with a weird feeling in my stomach reminiscing about my own childhood.... thank you Technical aspects: Atmosphere well created, good descriptions and comparisons that really added to the 'feel' of this story. Some slight spelling mistakes/typos, but all in all a really nice piece to read. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Appy Posted February 16, 2006 Report Share Posted February 16, 2006 Good idea to post this Mira, I enjoyed reading it. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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