Saturday Afternoon

Internet at home got too pricey to justify so here I find myself at school on a Saturday afternoon, sun blazing, gentle breeze pushing the swing-set like the ghost of a child. Feeling nostalgic today - a twinge of loneliness. The picnic bench where I sit is painted bright red, the red of grandma's kitchen table where she stacked the tins of brownies for Thanksgiving. I can hear the sound of the metal lids pop and smell the sweet chocolate wafting up from beneath the layers of wax paper. I can still see her hands, spotted, skin worn like your favorite set of sheets so thin you can almost see the invisible dreams gone by. I wonder what she would've thought of all this adventure. Everything here is strange: the giant leaves on the trees reminiscent of a Dr Seusse illustration, the argument in Luganda hovering in the air from the construction workers just beyond the parking lot, the brick red earth that sneaks into my apartment dusting the floor with the fine filth of Africa, the stench the reeks from the pores of poverty...
I could certainly use some company though the silence of empty classrooms is simply solace.