Dear School Hallways,
I’m sorry.
I’m sorry for taking you for granted over the past three years. I never expected to miss you, but now that I can no longer be with you I can see how well we worked together. I just want to let you know that my home bedroom can never, never replace you.
Look, things weren’t always perfect between us. Sometimes, I would be trapped behind an impassable wall of slow-walkers just when I needed to get to class early. Sometimes, you would be randomly flooded with water for seemingly no reason. Sometimes, you would be filled to the brim with the stench of tar so strong that everyone in a quarter-mile radius would get a headache. And-oh-my-GOD-sometimes, you would become the perfect place for couples who could apparently think of no more romantic place in the entire world than in the middle of where everyone was walking to make out.
But those things aren’t a big deal. In fact—those were always your biggest strengths! I mean, is my bedroom ever going to have random groups of kids recording TikToks that I’ll have to jump out of the way from? Not likely! As I numbly sit in-between Zoom classes, will anyone that I barely know suddenly give me a high five as they walk past? I certainly hope not! Why are they in my house? Will Hue Lykes ever slide past me with Heelys in my house’s hallway? Indubitably not!
See, that’s the thing. Every day you had something new to offer me. Whether it was asbestos signs or approximately 10,000 wrestlers from around the state coming to compete for CIE, I never knew what to expect with you. Spontaneity is the spice of life and you, dear school hallways, had that in spades. The boring consistency of sitting at my desk for fifteen minutes as I wait for the next class to start just isn’t the same. I mean, I had time to write a letter…
Perhaps I will see you again and can return to being confused, delighted, and/or annoyed at the many things you have to offer. Now that we are apart, all that I can do is wish we were back together.
Please return my calls,
Adam Rainbolt
