Red rubber balls bouncing from square to square. Shrieks of happiness. Calls from across the hill to come play. Chinese jump rope, thumb wrestling.
The joy in delay, of grinding your pencil sharp around and around, and around again! Perforated numbers, art day, and daydreaming out the window.
Squeaky gym floors and a poorly tuned piano. Field trips on bouncy yellow buses.
The smell of chalk dust, wet wool, and strawberry shampoo. Baggies spilling crushed potato chips, soggy tuna sandwiches.
The cute boy with the dark eyebrows who smirks at me. A flirtatious note left in his lift-up desk. Maybe. Some day.
Red Rover, Red Rover, send those kids back over.