Labor Day is painful for me. when I was in eighth grade my best friend was killed in a freak train accident. He was crossing the tracks in heavy rain and he was hit and killed. In many ways I’ve never gotten over that day. He was killed in the spring just before school ended. The summer was awful and lonely. But labor day was one of his favorite days because he’d stay up all night (or try to) and watch the muscular dystrophy telethon. He watched it so me and my brother watched it too. We’d go over his house and see how long we could stay up too. The three of us were tight for five years. We did just about everything together every day. We were drifting in 8th grade. We were. And then the sky opened up with lighting and it turned black as night all day. I found out in my last period math class. The principle announced it over the loudspeaker.
So when labor day comes around a great sadness hangs over me. My friend’s father punched his hand through the wall of his dining room when he found out. He asked us why we weren’t together. Why we hadn’t watched out for his son. He was in great pain and didn’t mean to blame us but he did. Some things will never make sense. My friend’s death in particular.
This labor day we cleaned. We put boxes in storage. We went to see a movie.
I put labor day behind me one more time.