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Saturdays

  • 1 min read

Saturdays

Every Saturday morning, Mom drove Petra and I to ballet.  Petra’s class started first, so I sat in a small waiting room downstairs on a hard bench covered in a rectangle of cheap beige carpet.  

One day, a brown-haired boy with a slightly rat-like face passed by in his ballet clothes.  He glanced into the room and went on his way.  

After a minute, he returned and stared me down from the doorway.  Then he walked into the room, picked up the trash can and emptied its contents over my head.  He 
seemed satisfied with his decision, so he repeated it every week.  

This didn't bother me, since it was early in the morning and there was never anything in the trash can besides a Brach's Sparkles candy wrapper and maybe a crushed Juicy Fruit foil.

I went to high school with this kid (we both ran track).  He also danced ballet for many years with Petra.  I doubt he remembers these special heartwarming moments, but you never know.

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