6: Sunday Evening
Sep. 26th, 2010 07:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jon_chaissonAround 7:30 I'd head back to my room and rustle through my bookbag,
Check for any assignments I might have put off until this moment,
And look at my calendar book to see what was coming up that week.
I'd close my door to block out the sound of the television
(And turning on the radio on top of my bookcase, of course),
Hunker down on the bed, and finish off whatever needed finishing.
The window facing the back yard would be open, just a crack,
Just enough for me to listen to the ambience of the woods,
The neighborhood cars driving by, the dogs barking a few blocks away.
The weekend was coming to a close, the year was doing the same.
All I could do was wait for it to come, wait for it to pass,
And perhaps hope that the next day and the next year improved.
I would sit there, on my bed, tapping my pen in time with the radio,
Reminding myself to talk with my friends about that great new song,
And hope maybe we'd roadtrip down to Amherst and buy the album.
I'd have to remind my mom to put it on channel 24, on MTV tonight,
So the VCR would kick in and tape my three hours of entertainment,
Which I'd spend Monday afternoon watching before anyone got home.
Sunday evening was always the time for reflection, a time of peace,
A time for me to contemplate what I'd done and what I wanted to do,
Even if it was a time for giving up my freedom, however fleeting.
Crossposted from my Dreamwidth page
Check for any assignments I might have put off until this moment,
And look at my calendar book to see what was coming up that week.
I'd close my door to block out the sound of the television
(And turning on the radio on top of my bookcase, of course),
Hunker down on the bed, and finish off whatever needed finishing.
The window facing the back yard would be open, just a crack,
Just enough for me to listen to the ambience of the woods,
The neighborhood cars driving by, the dogs barking a few blocks away.
The weekend was coming to a close, the year was doing the same.
All I could do was wait for it to come, wait for it to pass,
And perhaps hope that the next day and the next year improved.
I would sit there, on my bed, tapping my pen in time with the radio,
Reminding myself to talk with my friends about that great new song,
And hope maybe we'd roadtrip down to Amherst and buy the album.
I'd have to remind my mom to put it on channel 24, on MTV tonight,
So the VCR would kick in and tape my three hours of entertainment,
Which I'd spend Monday afternoon watching before anyone got home.
Sunday evening was always the time for reflection, a time of peace,
A time for me to contemplate what I'd done and what I wanted to do,
Even if it was a time for giving up my freedom, however fleeting.
Crossposted from my Dreamwidth page
