Labor Day. The official end of Summer, at least it's considered that in this part of the world. A day to sleep late, relax, or have even have a picnic if the weather's nice.
To me, it just dredges up vaguely uncomfortable thoughts of times long passed. You would think that after all these years, some memories would just gradually fade away. That certain days or events would lose their meaning, or be replaced by newer, more pleasant ones.
Not so Labor Day, at least for me. Labor Day means only one thing. School starts tomorrow.
I never liked school. Not one day of it. From the first hour of kindergarten to the last minute of high school. I've tried to self-analyze, to figure out why I had such an aversion to school. I believe I was an average student, maybe a little on the slow side. Maybe that had something to do with it. Perhaps I disliked it because I was forced to go. That it wasn't my choice.
In any event, every Labor Day starts out the same. I wake up, and in the 30 or so seconds it takes to shake the sleep off and it dawns on me just what day it is, the anxiety starts to build. Slowly at first, and then reaching a ridiculous level just before I turn in for the night.
Oh, and somewhere in-between is the conversation with myself. Telling myself that I haven't set foot inside a classroom for 36 years, that I don't have to go to school tomorrow. But it never works, and after this long, I don't think it ever will.
I tell Jan that I'll be sitting on the front porch of some retirement home when I'm 90 years old, and I'll still loathe this day for the same, tired reason.
It's bad when someone else messes with your head. But it's even worse when you mind-fuck yourself.