jumpingfish

1. Are You Going?

“Are you going to your happy hour,” Debra asked.

I had been sitting in the office after having turned in my monitors and my laptop and my keyboard and my mouse, after having taken my Philodendron down to the car, after having cleaned my desktop and the counter where the Philodendron has been sitting for years. I had been reading my phone, because I got all my check-out activities finished, and I still had an hour and a half to go with, quite literally, nothing left to do.

I looked up at Debra.

“Your happy hour,” she said, “Aren’t you going?”

“Well, it doesn’t start until 4:30,” I said. (It was 3:50.)

“4:00,” she said.

We walked over to her desk and looked at her calendar, because mine was closed up in my turned-in laptop that we sitting on the counter in Derrick’s office. She took a look. Sure enough: 4:00. I was going to be late for my last hurrah. 

Let’s just say that’s par for the course. 

2. B.B.Rover

“David. David. David,” Brett had said a week before. “Say it’s not true.”

I couldn’t say that. He was gracious in expressing his regret. 

“I’ll schedule a happy hour at B.B.Rover,” he said, “and I’ll invite all the folks who love you.”

There was a flattering turnout. Somewhere between a dozen and twenty people: some who came to briefly say good bye, others hung out with me for two and a half hours. They bought me sours and fries. And we talked and laughed and offered cheers and finally said our goodbyes as we walked to our cars, promising to stay in touch.

3. Sunset

image src: NASA/JPL – Sunset in Mars’ Gale Crater

Do you remember what if felt like then? As the days got warmer. As the trees got green. As summer was just around the corner.

As school began to wind down. As the smell of cut grass filled the air. As days became long again. Do you remember how your heart wanted to burst with winter finally gone and endless summer awaiting?

So here I am. The grass is green. Spring flowers are in blossom. Even the Pecans and Walnuts have long since pushed out their leaves. And with Friday as my last day of work, a kind of endless summer does indeed await. So where is that giddy feeling? Where is that wanna-burst heart?

Squeezed from both ends. On the one hand, a final project due in a matter of days — something to leave behind, it better be good. And on the other hand, the certification test next week and that minor detail about finding a teaching job — that big next thing that isn’t quite a thing, yet.

I’m telling you, I don’t even smell the cut grass.

An SUV pulled up in front of the house. There were two women in it. Trudy could see this, because she happened to be at the front door at that very moment.

They pulled up beside the purple-blooming Verbena and various Salvias and the yellow-blooming Englemann Daisy and Xexmenia. One of the woman had a cigarette in her hand that she held out the curbside window. She periodically flicked her ashes into the yard. Trudy could see this, and she was not impressed.

The women talked, and the woman flicked. And Trudy opened the door and began walking out to the curb where the women were taking their smoking break. She held up a wagging finger. She was sure that her genetic predisposition to scowling was in full force. She took long strides toward the curb.

The women saw her coming, and the driver let off the brake, and her SUV began to roll slowly forward.

“No, no, no,” Trudy said, shaking her head, pointing at the cigarette. “Not here, you don’t.”

She told me this later that evening. She held up a hand, and we high fived.

Fair and industrious, yes. But on that day: Fair and Fierce.

Russ did a double take. 

“Russ,” I said to him our our weekly video chat, “I’m giving my two week notice.”

He did a physical double take — the kind where his head swings to the camera with eyes wide open.

He was gracious and kind and curious about what I was planning to do.

“I’m going to be a teacher,” I said. “High school math and physics.”

In the time that’s passed since then, I’ve said this a few times. I’m not quite sure what people think, especially when they hear that I have no job yet or that I won’t be certified until later this spring (if the test goes well).

Just not sure what they think. Not that it matters. I find myself in a calm place with no remorse — no remorse other than working for Russ could have well been one of the best experiences of my professional life.

Oh well. A new profession is on its way.

The dogs have been at the window again.

It must be quite some operation — jump onto the chair at the desk (which certainly spins with them aboard), step onto the desk, clamber onto the flatbed scanner that sits near the window, and finally gaze out the window as they wait for the return of the mommy.

I know this happened from this evidence: the power button was glowing blue, and my tower of books was knocked askew. It is a fact that I never leave the blue button on. And I do not knock my books askew, least of all Foundations of Theoretical Mechanics, which was particularly misplaced.

From this evidence I know this to be true: the dogs have been at the window again.