Empty spaces

When I was 8, we had to have swimming lessons. My class had them on Fridays. We would walk, two by two, to the local sports centre. But for whatever reason, I had a dislike of the teacher that gave us the lessons. And for whatever reason, my parents acted and got me out of his class. Instead, I joined another class on Mondays and was taught by a different teacher who met with my satisfaction. Anyway, I am always reminded of swimming when I am at work after everyone else has gone (which is essentially every day...). Because the outcome of swapping to the Monday class was that on Fridays, I was left behind by my classmates and I was alone. I would attend the lessons of the other class and then at the end of the day, return to my form room to collect my things. And put my chair on the table (why was that a thing we did? To help the person that would hoover I guess). I would put everyone else's chair on the tables too. Pick up litter. Tidy the class room. I really enjoyed being alone there, in a room usually quite hectic with 30 or so eight year old kids obsessed with Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. I lingered as long as I could, relishing the different sense of this familiar space.

When I left work today, I passed the janitor who was sitting on one of the armchairs outside a meeting room. As usual, I envied him for his job. He works in empty spaces professionally. Lucky bastard.