Yesterday I went out of my building at the ill-advised hour of 2:30pm, when the middle school is letting out. There was the usual 43-car (SUV, really) line-up idling down the street, protected by orange traffic cones. Silver and off-white SUVs with windows rolled up, humming and exhausting in line, for the kids to come out.
But then there were three strange orange-flagged figures on the lawn–who were these creatures, and what were they doing on MY lawn?!? Two adults and one child, sitting in flourescent orange stadium chairs, facing the NASA-affiliated middle school, like they were having a picnic, or waiting for fireworks. Feet stretched out, one of them–the 8-year-old–was playing a recorder, off-tune and wonky, but goofing his way around, while the parents fanned themselves, on the second hottest day of the year.
I went to the post office and came back 10 minutes later and they were gone. Chairs and recorder packed up, and all. Lawn back to normal. But now I’m looking forward to the rest of the commute, and hearing how kid X’s scales improve, while lounging on the lawn.