This is a family site, so I won’t…. Ah heck, no it isn’t. Time for a fuckin’ Ficly! ;D I hope you enjoy. This one is out of my typical genre.
Erica gave me a half asleep look from her desk on the other side of the room. This was becoming the longest two hours of my life. The administration had decided that Erica and I were going to enjoy the company of the chairs and desks of PS 104 for just a little while longer.
It seemed in a lot of ways that this was going to be the last summer of our lives. After mid-August, there were very few people we would ever see or hear from again, and these were mostly people that we had known since childhood.
It was the last day of school. June 10th. Three o’clock. One hour to go. Then we would never have to come back. Not for anything. None of this mattered to the teacher in the front. Her year didn’t end for another week. We were just overtime, her extra fifty percent.
I fiddled with my cell phone under the desk, trying to think of something intelligent I could text her. Nothing, so I sent her something obvious to fill the digital silence. “I can’t wait to get out of here.”
A Ficly about a working person appreciating a Summer Weekend. No twist here, just some lively detail that’s bound to put you in a good mood.
Inside the house with the AC blasting and the neighborhood kids calling to each other from outside, though the screens on the windows, I felt it. A Summer weekend, like a dream. A season of endless bliss that the kids anticipate during the days from September to June. Two months of listening to lawnmowers and grills, and sleeping without a blanket.
Kelly calls from the kitchen, and amidst the euphoria I answer back with a kind of swallowed yell. Tomorrow we’ll spend the day poolside with our daughters and several of the other families from the block. At some point we’ll reach the magic hour, when fighting off the wildlife with citronella becomes less important than sitting back with a beer or leaning into a steak and laughing with the group while the water splashes onto the pool deck and the lights are turned on.
Sunday night when when the world is quiet save for the crickets and their seven-hour-chirp, I’ll lay in bed and offer a deep sigh to the pillow or the ceiling, and know that if we all live to be seventy or eighty, five days really won’t have been so long to wait for that next Friday.