Tag: School

  • Gumming Up the Works

    You know what happens in our home when it’s twenty degrees outside? No one wants to get up, myself included. Even the dog didn’t want to get out of my bed. The poor kid-o refused to get out from under her covers, so I had to pick her up outta bed and take her to the couch. Long story short, the kid was late to school. I’m talking maybe ten minutes late. Instead of going in the side door with her class and teacher, we had to go through the main front door, and by the school security guard. I watched the kid hang her head low as she slow walked down to her classroom, and had to open the door, in effect announcing her lateness to the class.

    In the realm of the Universe we live in, this was not a big deal, but to her, I could just feel the defeat and how this twenty-four-hour period will be described as the worst day ever. I might even hear it multiple times today.

    And still, I felt my little heart break for her. Such an innocent state of grace that she lives in where just being late is all the cause one would need for the day to be the worst. This caused me to remember the large and small tragedies that would befall me in elementary school. Missing the bus, or forgetting my lunch, or getting a stain on my shirt when it was picture day. Getting the question wrong, or being accused of liking a girl, when I did actually really like that girl.

    Watching my kid go through these things, does not make me feel good, but somehow confirms that life is really just on repeat. When it comes to how we deal with things, nothing changes from one generation to the next. I try to nurture a different result, but nature keeps gumming up the works.

  • My Little Apartment

    I just might spend my whole life in this little Harlem apartment. As funny as that sounds, this is a new thought for me. I have lived in this apartment for fourteen years, and I have always thought that one day, we would leave this place for another apartment, or miracle of miracles, a house. This apartment was always seen as a stepping stone to something else.

    But you know what… after fourteen years, I think I am coming around to see that this apartment is my home, and I will always have this place as my home.

    Sure, it’s tiny. In fact, it is very tiny. Two little bedrooms, a small kitchen, an even smaller bathroom. Two adults, a kid and a dog live in its confines, and if you add one more adult in the space, the apartment feels over-crowed, like it will explode, but what you are actually feeling is the anxiety of people being on top of each other.

    Yet, we are next to two subway lines. And a park. And a library. The kid’s school is walking distance and it’s a pretty good school. We like our neighbors in the building, and a police and fire station aren’t too far away either. We have made the apartment cozy, and each person has their own space to relax.

    Just wish we got more sunlight in the place.

    Maybe we might get a place upstate. Maybe a small farm house with a root cellar, and a place we can put all of our books. Maybe have enough land for the dog to run, and an old fieldstone wall cutting through the property. Maybe, one day.

    But in my little apartment, we have marked the kid’s height on the wall. The apartment is near a grocery store, and a place where me and the wife can get a dozen oysters on the half shell, and a pretty decent dirty martini.

    Maybe I will stay her forever after all.