On the day we used to get 9 weeks holidays…

It’s the day the children, ‘wains’ around here, (From ‘wee ones’ I think!) get their summer holidays. The last almost-wistful day, nay half-day when you eat sweets and watch a film and will be never taught by this teacher, in this classroom again. It poured from the heavens today. Almost everything made me want to cry. I’m back at my old job, the one I had before I went to University. I’m not even graduated yet and I’m despairing about my future. I think my Masters application was unsuccessful – letter to follow. My heart wasn’t set on it but it was something to hold on to, brandish in front of people when they ask me the dreaded ‘so what’s next?’

I liked how neatly the dates fell this year. Finish up on the Friday the 29th June. Sunday is the 1st of July, the day you should be preparing to go back to school but instead you are preparing for nine weeks of delicious freedom. You can almost taste the ice cream and the gritty bits of sand. The long sunny evenings, late nights and the cries of ‘I’m borreed.’

Oh to have nine weeks all to oneself again.

I went to buy a few things when I finished work today. Beside my bus stop as I prepared to go home I saw a girl crying. She was about fifteen, she was trying to fix her face in a little mirror but still her face crumpled. Her thick eyeliner must have been waterproof. The apples of her cheeks where bright red from rubbing them with her black hoodie sleeve. She wore black jeans, too, and a little backpack. I walked past. The girl in front of me, clinging to her boyfriend glanced back at the crying girl. I thought about going to her, but for me there’s nothing more embarrassing that someone drawing attention to you crying. I bought something to eat  in the shop, and circled back. Now she was amongst a gaggle of girls. They weren’t dressed like her, or if they were, it was more fashionable, flashy. There were leopard print shoes and tights and shorts and colourful blouses. None of them seemed to notice the freshly tear-stained face and she smiled bravely as she was bumped into during dramatic hugging sessions and declarations of love between the other girls.

I think about her summer. I can emphasize with her perfectly. It’s probably going to be a hard few months for her, things that won’t cast her a thought when she is 23 seem to matter so much. Girls can be so cruel. Fitting in requires hard work and acting, I could never quite cut it.

Facing a weekend of work when you still feel you should be embarking on a summer adventure is a bit of a reality check. My summers are different now. Uncertain. I am graduating this day next week. I will endeavor to squeeze in some fun nights and day time mini-adventures with M and my friends throughout the summer I am 23.

All the most interesting girls didn’t fit in.

 

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Author: Fiona @ lifelyricslemoncake

https://lifelyricslemoncake.wordpress.com/

5 thoughts on “On the day we used to get 9 weeks holidays…”

  1. Beautiful post, really thoughtful. Also this:
    1. I felt just the same when I finished my degree. You have still achieved something great even if you’re back in the same job as before. Celebrate your successes!
    2. Don’t wrote off your Masters application just yet – I thought I’d failed my PhD interview the other day and I was wrong *fingers firmly crossed for you*
    3. I didn’t fit in at school either. I’m glad now because it meant I was able to work out who I actually am a lot sooner than the people who were trying to be the same as everyone else.
    4. 9 weeks holiday would be incredible. We only got 6 weeks in England – why did I not appreciate it when I had it?
    Lastly, you are a lovely, funny person who writes brilliantly – things will work out in the long run regardless xx

  2. Thank you SO much everyone. I was self-concious of this post as it feels like my first negative one. I tried to turn it around, though. I think I gave a little bit of myself and I’m happy you have all understood me !

    Thank you x

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