The raucous laughter slips into the hallway, vibrates, echoes, pulsates out onto the road. It is our last hour together: this specific combination of personalities. One teacher drums her Djembe in celebration. A girl, a boy, a girl, a boy—each with her/his story to tell about that time we lined up, arched our backs, noses tilted to the ceiling, hands clasped behind our backs to inhale the diffuser and that time we clapped when for the first time a boy arrived early to class, and that time we waited till the last minute to finish our work, leaving a certain adult fully stressed, and that time we
and that time we
and that time
and that
and
until today
Today with a snug hug, we parted, knowing it will never be the same again, always different and we will
and we will look
and we will look back
with so much nostalgia
about that time and that time and that time.
