It has been said that, just before death, your entire life flashes before your eyes in seconds. Well, I don’t know if that’s true or not; mine took almost three minutes to relive. Why did it take so long? That’s how much time it took to walk down the main hallway of our school. (It was a really long hallway!) Confused? Just keep reading, Dear Reader, when the voice from above finally speaks, all will be revealed.
The morning task
My job was simple enough: take the office communications to the office, drop the lunch count envelope off in the basket in front of the lunchroom doors, and then return to the classroom. I’d followed this same routine every school day since being assigned to one of the five kindergarten classrooms at our local elementary school. But that last Monday, the “same routine” turned out to be anything but.
As soon as I shut the classroom door behind me, the difference was noticeable — there were no children anywhere. Thinking this was a little odd, I continued walking up to my first destination.
Dropping the large communication envelope in the basket just outside of the office, I quickly made my way towards the main hallway and the basket in front of the lunchroom doors. Nearing the main hallway, I suddenly felt the hairs on the back of my neck rise as a chill came over me. Looking around I thought, Where are all the children? There’re always children in the hallways.
Turning the corner
Have you ever seen something that made you stop everything and pause for a moment until your brain could catch up and make sense of what your eyes were looking at? Turning the corner into the main hallway of the school, I found myself in just such a situation. Unfortunately, the longer I looked, the more my brain was confused and was unable to process what my eyes were seeing.
The scene
With my forward momentum stopped, I stiffened, staring at the highly unusual scene that unfolded directly in front of me. The main hallway, about the length of a football field, had clothes on the floor lined up against both walls. Still, there were no children — just clothes — lots and lots of them.
The only explanation
I rushed to the first door to the right, the art room. There are always kids in here. Looking through the side window I thought, No way this could be happening. I checked my watch. There was a scheduled class, but where are all the children?
Slowly making my way to the lunchroom doors, I looked in. No one? This makes no sense. There’s always someone eating breakfast. I continued walking, astonished at the sheer amount of clothes, water bottles and lunch boxes lining both walls of the hallway all the way to the end. Where did everyone go? The 2nd/3rd grade hallway was next on the right and glancing down I hoped to see someone … anyone, but no.
Again, there were no children.
I hastened my pace down to the music room and looked in. There must be children in here. The Christmas recital is less than three weeks away. But once again I saw no one, not even the music teacher.
The end
Past all the hoodies, sweatshirts, shoes, lunch boxes and water bottles, I eventually made it to the end of the main hallway and the 4th and 5th grade sections of the school. There are always children in the hallway changing classes. But I saw not a single child.
The walk had only taken about three minutes, but it seemed like a lifetime. Turning around and gazing back from where I came, I realized there could be only one explanation.
A life in review
Perhaps some of the stuff we did while living back on that old familiar street not so far away called Flamingo might be judged as not the best choices children should make. Now, maybe I am paying for all those “not so good” choices.
The no judgment zone
The voice from above brought clarity and much needed relief to my situation. It was the voice of our principal, “Students, please remember to collect your lost belongings on display along the main hallway. Our lost and found department is starting to rival that of Goodwill. Also, all teachers can now have the students start to line the hallways for our ‘Salute to our Veterans Walk.’”
Relief surged through me as I heard this announcement and walked back down the main hallway past all the clothes still lying on the floor. And, yes, along the way I found my missing water bottle, gloves, and jacket.
Home sweet home
Before turning the corner, I looked back down the main hallway and smiled at my silliness. My self-reflection was quickly redirected down the kindergarten hallway to our classroom just as children poured out and started to stand up against the walls.
Once back home, I hurried into the house, calling The Wife’s name so I could tell her about what had happened. No answer. Since she wasn’t in the kitchen, I made my way to the bedroom, and for the second time that day, I suddenly stopped and stared.
It happened again
Her clothes were on the bed and piled on the floor, but The Wife? She was nowhere to be found. I started to panic, calling out her name again. Could it be?
And that’s when she came out of her closet with a load of clothing. Seems she was doing some cleaning and wanted to get rid of things she no longer wore. And where was she going to drop them off? You guessed it.
Goodwill.
[Rick Ryckeley has been writing stories weekly in The Citizen since 2001.]
