Bleeps and a Dinosaur
Written by: lionsmane
As a kid, I was sent to day-care for years. When elementary school would end for the day, I'd wait at the front of the building where, if you turned around and looked up a meager 20 feet, you'd see a crafted, well-aged wooden plank with large white letters drilled into a hundred-year-old brick building reading, "We hold these truths...", - an attribution to Thomas Jefferson for the aforementioned quote on another plank just below it.
If you're driving down the short street that heads toward the 50 foot tall building, you'd be able to make out the lettering with your eyes. Kind of like pulling into the paved driveway of a prototypical "American Dream" family where the front door reads, "Welcome to the Johnsons" - instilling a feeling of safety you didn't know you needed.
I used to wait at the yellow cement poles for the arrival of a funny blue van with a dinosaur decal painted on- set to taxi me away to the home I had come to know for a decade: day-care. Reasonably tall for my age, I'd duck into the dim vehicle only to be greeted by spoiled milk - the smell really setting in a minute or two after takeoff. My friends would watch me get picked up as they walked home on their own, probably never understanding where I was headed to.
In the van, the radio would play, but not too loudly. We'd alternate favorite stations between the mismatched crew of us, while sometimes a fight would ensue following a disagreement over which station should get its time - as if each station were a salesman giving us its sales pitch as to why it's the station we needed in our lives right that minute.
A half hour later, once our rounds were made in order to pick up the kids from the other schools, I'd duck again to exit the dinosaur's nest - I, an elder statesman to much of the day-care's demographic. Another couple of hours later and one of my parents would pick me up for yet another taxi trip so that we could jettison home. I felt like a goofy celebrity being escorted.
Most days with my mother, we'd alternate turns using the radio on that car ride home, a lot like us kids did in the dinosaur's nest. I tended to let my mother choose because I didn't want drama. While old in my young skin, there were things I still couldn't figure out - asking her what each bleeped-out word of the mainstream songs really meant. I'd ask before the song was over, interrupting, but the song would continue up until it was eventually my turn to choose the next one. It went just like this each day but there was a song or two that changed the mood. I'd name the songs, but it wouldn't matter - because I guess what I learned was that a melody is what you make of it.
© This writing was created by and remains property of the username, lionsmane. It is to be claimed as an original piece only on whaleshares and steemit under this username. Creation date: March, 2019
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