“Dad, I’m bored,” James said.
“Yeah, there’s nothing to do,” Ian said.
“Why don’t you go outside and play?” I said to them. They gave me a look like I was hopelessly out of touch with reality and draped themselves on the living room furniture like damp towels. “You know that school starts next week. You should go out while you still can.”
They didn’t say it, but I could hear it. They wanted school. They missed their friends and the idea of feeding their minds with the same voracious appetite they fed their teenage mouths.
“I have a wonderful idea!” I said, full of imitation glee. “Why don’t you go clean up your room?”
They groaned in unison, but I had a plan. “After Mom wakes up, we’re going to get your back to school supplies and we need a place to put the new stuff. You guys are getting big enough for your own desks, too. If we don’t have room to put them in your rooms…” I left the sentence unfinished, but the meaning came through, crystal clear.
James and Ian rose from the furniture. Too old and cool to show enthusiasm, they still went quickly to their rooms.
I tiptoed through their rooms that night while they slept. Larger clothes hung in the closet, unblemished shoes lay at the foot of their beds and pristine backpacks dangled across unfamiliar chairs. The new desks took up floor space that used to be covered with toys, another sign of impending maturity. Fresh school supplies and stacks of snow-white paper, neatly arranged on top of them, showed their excitement. I knew this feeling wouldn’t last, maybe not even past their first full day. But, on these last days of summer vacation, they couldn’t wait to go back to school.
William R. Bartlett lives in Belton with his family.