School Chaperone

Ever since he was a little boy he had always followed the same routine. Wake up early in the morning, before his mother had a chance to sneak into his room to rouse him, take a nice long, hot shower - letting the water wash away his grogginess, before finishing it up with a bowl of oatmeal. The scent of the cinnamon and apples tickling his nose. Every day this would happen. Like clockwork. Then he'd make his way outside. Wandering along the sidewalk. Down to where the bus would pick him up. Along the way, about halfway to the bus stop he'd pass a large fenced in yard. And every day he would let his hands play along the cast iron bars. Just trailing behind him at first. Bouncing off the metal. Playing a little melody - ringing through the air. Sometimes he would pick up speed, listening to the change in tempo and pitch. Other times he'd slow down and put some force behind his hand, increasing the volume. But regardless of the day, he'd always let his fingers wander to the top of the ironwork. Using them like little legs, he'd run them along the repeating curves and points. Jumping amongst them. Sometimes far enough to skip a set of two. It was simple pleasure. Fun all the way down the fence.

When he got old enough to drive, he stopped walking along the fence every morning and he forgot about his routine. Adopting rather to sleep in and absorb as much rest as he could. When it came time to graduate, he didn't give the iron fence a second thought. He simply packed his things into a few boxes and bags and headed off to college. Ready to start a new chapter in his life. Occasionally, without thinking, he'd find his fingers dancing, running, and jumping across different objects as he walked by. Stairway handrails, windowsills, tables. Apparently old habits were hard to break.

Now he was much older. School had been behind him for some time. He had moved on. Started a new life in a far away city. Let his roots begin to take hold. A career was blossoming. He had met someone. Settled down. Even recently asked the major question. But before that could happen, he had felt the need to bring her to his hometown. Show her where he grew up. Who he had been friends with. See the area that helped shape him as the man she knew today - just as he expected to experience her home sometime in the near future.

By the time they arrived back in his town, it was the evening and she was pretty tired, opting to curl up in bed to rest, catching up with his mother. At first he was disappointed but that quickly passed as he walked out of the front of the house and down the sidewalk. As he continued forward he soaked it all in - allowing the memories to pour back into his mind. The trees he used to climb, where his friends used to live, the fresh crisp air of the mountains. It all came rushing back. And then there it was. Stretching out before him just like it always had. Standing tall and proud. He could tell it had aged. He could see the paint chipping away in spots, the rust shining through, even some of the humps and points were bent ever so slightly. But the moment his figures connected with the metal, all felt right.  He could feel the years against his fingers, but it didn't matter. There was still the 'ping' that resonated from the bars as he let his fingers slap across the bars. As he continued forward, he let his hand slowly wander higher, until his fingers were prancing across the top of the ironwork. It felt right - no longer a memory.

He was glad he old friend was still around.