I arrived a few minutes early and sat on a bench on the ground floor, just around the staircase that leads to the second floor classrooms.

Occasionally, someone would come by the corridor and nod or give me a formal greeting. Mostly, I waited for the rumor of doors opening and kids stepping out of rooms.

When the sound did eventually come, it was like a levy breaking and a rush of running feet, loud voices, jostling bodies and peals of laughter poured down the stairs. Olin ran by looking straight ahead and without seeing me. Luca came down a bit later and saw me before I noticed him.

To think kids experience these waves of joy and release every day when school lets out! I had completely forgotten what that looked, sounded and felt like.

At this time in my life, joy is more of a quiet thing: to step out with HRM and explore a new neighborhood, or sit with a good book, to share a cigar and conversation, to rest my body midway through a long bicycle ride, somewhere where other riders like to gather.