Hope
Sunrise bleeds slowly across the landscape in waves of pure gold. It halos the trees and dense underbrush, showcasing a world gone completely green. Nothing remains to say there was ever a high school here. I remember, though. I remember the parking lot that should have been where I am standing. The feeling of the steering wheel hot from the sun beneath my hands, the smell of car exhaust and pavement. Lines of yellow school buses waiting to receive the rush of active young bodies, freed from their academic prison. I remember the time I accidentally parked in a spot meant for one of those buses to wait for my son. We had a doctor’s appointment and I was picking him up a little early. Not nearly early enough, as I had to wait for every bus to leave the lot before pulling away. I never made that mistake again.
