It wasn't supposed to be the last time I visited this place. The day and time were off, and it was far too cold and dark. There was no fanfare. No hugging. No people. Only my goodbye to what felt like the building. I touched the doorknob. It was locked. And then I'm smiled ruefully. It would not have been locked, on a different day, at a different time. I would have to say goodbye to the outside of the building – one hand resting on the handle – as if I were a small child holding the hand of a much larger parent. I murmured my thanks to it. I murmured my memories. I lamented the time we had lost – that this was our goodbye – and then I walked away, the wind the forlorn presence that blew me on.

​

(a 5-minute in-class writing, 3/24/20)