winding down

Half anxious, half lackadaisical. So high school. The smudged corner of the more-or-less whiteboard has been boxed in with a countdown for a month, if only anyone could remember if the number is today's or yesterday's or somehow tomorrow's. The May calendar works overtime, verified and rechecked, over and over again. Today is thirteen. We'll get to zero without thinking-- perhaps, some of us, almost literally--today plus two weeks plus finals.

That must mean we have gathered one hundred sixty-two times thus far, just like the big leaguers, though with only one contract among us. So much has happened and so little. "This year," I keep repeating, "has been all about attrition." The losses do add up: six quitters and skippers, one unwilling departure. What-ifs and could-have-beens piled in the corners along with unused notebooks cleaned out of abandoned lockers. But most of us have been here most of the time, both marking time and evolving.

I wonder what we've learned.