There was a time when we talked in hushed tones about the summer when we’d finally be free . The only summer when we wouldn’t have to groan about going back to school. We longed for it. Itched and craved.
There was a time when we made SuperSexaySimblyBrilliantThingsToDo lists, looked at it hungrily and handled it with trembling hands.
And a time when we counted the
months left for school to end.
The twinge of misery about leaving school and the colour-colour benches and everything that we grew up with lay forgotten.
That little twinge of misery has decided to make itself conspicuous and hit me with the force of a lorry.
It hurt, yes.
I moaned and whined and whimpered and sighed mournfully and went around looking like a deflated balloon swaying to dismal violin strains.
Because school is home.
School got us all together and gave us all that fuzzy sense of belonging.
School made us all frands despite our differences that stick out like a sore thumb.
And without it, I’d feel a little like Mary minus her little lamb.
Excuse me while I go sob uncontrollably on someone’s shoulder.