Friday, November 1, 2013


Up in the air it's uncomfortably warm, and my neck and shoulders ache from craning my head upward as I cable lights. Down below me, six or seven young people are talking and laughing as they paint. Some have spent all day with us, and one bribed herself to finish a paper by telling herself she could work in the theater once it was done. My coworker, in the air with me, has been listening to them too. He turns to me, smiling and gesturing at the students, and says, "This makes me happy." I'm calculating how long each of them has until graduation. I'm already sad at the thought.

1 comment:

  1. and yet, graduation will not have them forget, they will remember as we do, the marks, the paint splotches, the loving guidance that led them to that sacred place, bought with finished papers... Kudos