The sky was blue—the type of blue that some English teachers would have you analyze to death even though the only intention of the word “blue” was to describe the sky. And if you wanted to be scientific, a blue sky dotted with cumulus clouds—magnified cotton balls if viewed in the literary perspective.
I heard tapping. Steady and progressive—gradually becoming louder, closer, more familiar. The noise was emerging near sheds; sheds with a forgotten name to students, only remembered by the teachers who named them.
My hair began dancing with the wind as my heart synced with the cadence. While a grin emerged hand-in-hand with giggling, my mind became clearer than the sky above me.
If the moment was something to analyze in English, I imagine the passage would go something along these lines:
“It was the end of the senior’s last day of high school as Haley walked into her high school’s parking lot, she was greeted by three drummers drumming dressed in spandex. Haley stopped thinking about her final six school days of sophomore year left as her mind became saturated with the cadence. Instead of thinking of the moment as a farewell, Haley saw the moment as a celebration.”
Thank you 2012 seniors.