My First Day

Irene eyed the apple that I slipped into the brown bag and shot me a quizzical look. She knew I didn't like apples and wondered what it was for.

"It's for the teacher," I said with an uncomfortable grin.

"You're kidding, right?" she said as she walked over to where I was standing in the kitchen. She stuck her hand in the brown bag and pulled out the apple. "What are you? Six?"

"Nervous," I said, almost too quickly, "that's what I am."

My wife peered into the brown bag and shook her head as she recovered the sandwich I put together, holding it up. It looked pathetic-- the bread slices were thin from a miscalculated press-down and there seemed to be more jelly on the inside of the baggy than there was within the sandwich itself. "Seriously?"

"I love PBJ..."

She chuckled, ignored the rest of the bag's contents, and slipped her arms around my waist. "You are too cute. Did I ever tell you that?"

"Once or twice," I said, hugging her tightly. I loved how she felt.

"I'm also very proud of you," she continued. "Fifty-five and a freshman in college. I still can't believe it."

I reluctantly ended our embrace and hoisted the backpack's strap over my shoulder. "They're probably going to call me 'Grandpa.'"

"You are a 'Grandpa.'"

"You know what I mean."

Irene smiled knowingly and gave me a light shove toward the back door. "Well, if you dilly-dallied any longer, they'll be calling you 'late.' You go on now and play nice with the other kids and stay away from the sandbox. Oh, and don't talk to strangers."

It was my turn to chuckle. I gave Irene a peck on the cheek and headed out to my first day back in school.




Winner of 08/10/08 Prompt in "Daily Flash Fiction Challenge" 
Prompt: Write about someone going back to school after being out for a long time.
Word Count: 299