I wonder what my dog is thinking. I wonder what my dad is thinking. I wonder what my mom is thinking. I wonder what I am thinking, sometimes…
If I were them…
—
Peanut’s point of view:
It’s morning. I see Brad walk out the door. He waves at Dad. Good. He’s gone. One more to go. Continue reading
I wake up. I brush my teeth. I eat. I bike to school. I go to my classes. I eat lunch. I go to my classes. I bike back home. I eat something. I swim. I eat dinner. I write. I learn math. And then I sleep. Repeat.
Routine is great. Most of the time. But sometimes it is just so boring.
So you could imagine my joy, the hundreds of students also standing in the biulding, and the teacher’s dismay when the power went out.
The long hallways had their lights turned off. The ones at each end went first, and it was like somebody was clapping their hands together: when they were finally in the middle, all the lights had gone out.
It wasn’t very dark. There were a lot of windows in the school, and I happened to be standing on the second floor. I didn’t even realize something had happened. But then yelling came from below the hallway. And then somebody screamed on the second floor.
And then the whole school rumbled.
This could not be happening.
It could not be true.
I was refusing to believe that hundreds of my mom’s written articles were gone. They had disappeared eternally by a press of a button.
So this is what happens, I thought to myself. This is what happens when a backup goes wrong. This is what happens.
My mother could sense my feelings. She looked at me with worried eyes. I could see suppressed tears.
And I wished I could help. Continue reading
The other day I was late.
It was an accident. And it was only partly my fault.
See, first of all, I woke up late because it was too comfortable under the covers, where my feet were nice and warm, my body snuggled tightly against my blankets, and my mind still in dreams. So I hastily whacked a random button on my alarm. It was the “alarm off” button, not the snooze button.
Fifteen minutes later, my dad woke me up. “What are you doing?” he asked me, “It’s 8:10 already!” School started at 8:50. I needed to get to the meeting spot with everyone else (I biked with a few other people) at 8:25. I had fifteen minutes to eat, brush my teeth, ready my backpack, and be out of there. Continue reading
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