You’re huddled just inside the doorway, you and them, the tight togetherness of expectation, the bustling of chatter and energy, of planning and playdates and sleep, with winter’s icy embrace just days away, some shushing the others for quiet, bending an ear for announcement, as others jostle into position, magnets towards the door, the fewest steps possible, dragging neon backpacks like luggage, their laughter lifting you into a mood beyond the classroom, beyond this space, beyond this crazy adolescent circus that always keeps you spinning —

all this and so much more on the Friday before the weekend, when collective childhood consumes all, even you