Holy Childhood

Last night I had a dream I was back in kindergarden… which sent me in an interesting direction in thought. Now, I spent the early portion of my grade school years in an old catholic school, which is now nearly condemned. I remember quite a bit about the building… the dimly lit hallways with high ceilings, the starred windows which allowed light in, but were impossible to see out of. The old wooden doors with aged, worn off edges. The desks that still had ink welds. The wooden planked floors with creaks and throw rugs… shagg carpet in a room where we used to take naps in cots. The school was largely vacant while I attended, and in fact only ran grades preschool through first. The enormous building reeked of memory, first founded as a Catholic missionary school and boarding house for native americans… I spent a lot of time there with the nuns; first in day-care, then in sunday school, then in grade school, and now anytime I’m shopping the thrift stores, as it’s basement still holds one of the best in town…and is currently its sole function. I went from there to a standardized school; drop ceilings, halogen lights, brown flat carpet, lockers, computers, etc. No interesting architecture, no rounded windows tops, no dangerously scalding steam heaters…. I wonder, had I been allowed to remain in the haunted envoirnment, which part of me would be affected? Disposition? Attitude? Design tastes? I was considering this while enjoying a cup of coffee and a cigarette on my front porch, watching the sun rise. My stray cat friend joined me for a bit, but his lady fair boldly approached us both… and cooed him away to claw and wrestle underneath in the shadows.