A Second Home

Morning, afternoon, night I walk in The white tiled floors, covered in spit, and dust, and never cleaned quite right. The walls literally filled with pictures of band kids past. It's morning and I see kids, bolting down the hallway at 6:59. Almost late, as always. The ones who are there are repeatedly playing tunes from years ago that they shouldn't really remember, but do anyways. It's lunchtime and a collection of butt-forming chairs and disheveled stands create a makeshift table for friends to laugh around. They talk about their day, laugh, grab their instruments, and with 5 minutes left to the bell, quickly shove their food into their mouths. Evening approaches and one by one, kids arrive. The older ones dressed in navy blue, high-waisted pants, with a hat that is never quite on straight. The younger ones come running in the room, chattering excitedly decked out in the schools somehow appealing colors. The game ends, kids stay until the very last second while their parents sit annoyed in their cars. When everyone's finally kicked out and the room is empty, you can't quite get rid of the excitement. A new dawn, a new day, a new adventure. All in my second home.