Bokanovsky's Process

The bell rang and I watched my son's class walk out, single file, lining up under the awning, against the lawn. Parents were on the other side of a chain linked fence, talking with each other, waiting for their children, making play dates, parking SUVs on the street. My boy was in the back of the line, holding a green happy face he was given for behaving well. Numerous other children were also holding them. They raised their hands as they saw their parents through the fence. Mine saw me, raising his hand. He walked towards me, smiling, backpack with the logo of a recent summer blockbuster movie hanging heavily on his shoulders. He handed me his happy face as we walked across the lot to my car. He said goodbye to a couple of his friends. "See you in a bit," he said. Soccer practice was beginning shortly.