The Flight

As the morning sunlight beamed

through the windows of the classroom,

I got this notion as a nine-year-old

that it was time for me to go home.

I was more interested

in playing than schooling.

 

So, I decided to ask the teacher

for permission to go to the boy’s room

rather than wait for recess

to get out of the classroom.

 

I hurriedly walked through

the central covered walkway

leading to the grassy field

where my bicycle was stored

in the school’s bike racks.

 

The urge to go home

was far greater than being scared.

I pedaled vigorously back home

like a bird flapping its wings

after being set free from its cage.

 

“Did school let out early?” my mother asked.

“Yes,” I said.

Nothing further was discussed

as I went out to play.

Unbeknownst to me, a phone call came…

 

Other than the reason why I was home early,

I do not recollect that my mother

ever mentioned to me anything else.

The phone call must have said it all for her.

There was no lecture or discipline.

 

At school the following day,

Literally everyone in the class

wanted to know where I went.

“Home” is all that I told them.

My teacher escorted me

to the principal’s office.

 

The principal wasted little time

in asking me why I ran away from school.

I told her straightly –

“I wanted to go home.”

“Well, you gave us quite a scare, young man!

She sighed.

 

She firmly instructed me never 

to leave school again without permission, 

and then delicately asked of me,

“Can you do that for me?”

“Yes, mam,” I replied.

She never said anything

about lying to my schoolteacher.

 

Before sending me back to class,

she informed me that she had to discipline me

for leaving the school without permission.

She softly spanked me on my bottom

twice with her hand!

It felt more like a gentle pat on the back;

there was no discomfort.

 

As if my wings had been clipped,

I kept my word to her,

never to take flight again.