Wednesday drags by like a turtle going uphill in the mud. There"s chatter about the goings on with the logging trucks yesterday at Mr. Albertson"s house. No one asks me anything seeing how the strange event didn"t happen in our woods. Still, I occasionally see people peeping at me from the corners of their eyes. I pretend I don"t notice, and no one has the guts to ask.
I sure would have liked to be a squirrel up in a tree today, watching the loggers make a second try.
Augh, the wondering about what"s happening makes the day go even slower.
AughFinally, the bell rings, dismissing class. I load up my book bag and make my way to the bus. It slowly grinds its way to my house, dropping off kids along the way like fall leaves giving up the battle to hang on.
"I"m home," I announce when I go
