The Awaited Cycle

“Wait!! Wait!!” I yell as I run down the hill It’s the middle of winter and the real feel is around thirteen degrees I can’t feel my face, and yet I continue to make my way down The hill teases me with its slippery and icy surface as I find my way through its winding pavement I come to a fast halt, right in front of the two black iron gates, where my cousins await We wave to the security guard….head through the gates, up the stairs, down a pathway, up a ramp, and then stop in front of another set of iron doors At once we stop our giggling and jittering Pushing through the tenaciously robust doors, we enter Inside its warm, they’re dozens of people scattered about, it smells of coffee beans and old dollar bills The floor grabs hold of us and jolts us in the direction of the colorful room- we don’t hesitate Here we spend an hour or so picking up books, placing them back on the wrong shelves, reading passages to one another, and asking the nice ladies to show us the eclectic arrivals After everyone’s made their picks, we take a seat at the inviting yellow table in the back The table is decorated with our carved initials, marker writing, chocolate stains and small tally marks Each tally symbolizes each visit to our yellow abode It’s not long before one of us gets bored and heads back to the alluring shelves for a new pick The cycle begins again Every week this cycle repeats itself five to ten times in a span of two to four hours It seems to be a humdrum repetition of certain steps to outsiders But to us, it’s a cherished and anticipated ritual A ritual full of desire to be living the lives of our characters Lives full of color, freedom, and spontaneity Filling us with jealousy, these lives turn ours bland At the end we head home with our favorite pick of the day But do not worry, next week we do return starting the cycle once again