October 10th, 2025
Asher and I were early getting to school. Traffic was remarkably light driving north on I-94, and we arrived at the Waldorf school almost fifteen minutes ahead of schedule. Also, we left home sooner than we usually do because Asher really wanted to go to school. This is a new development. For weeks, my wife and I had to threaten and cajole the boy to get up, get fed, and get dressed. Suddenly, that’s all changed. Now, there is strong motivation for Asher to start his morning in kindergarten.
This motivation has straw blonde hair, and she wears it in braids.
When Asher and I finally parked the car near the school, he got out of his child seat and scurried out of the RAV4. I grabbed his backpack. We started walking down Franklin Street toward the parking lot where the students and faculty would gather before calls began. Asher asked me,
“Are the cones up yet?”
The staff puts up numbered traffic cones in the lot to help the kids find their class and line up each morning. I told Asher,
“I don’t know. We can look.”
Asher saw that the lot was still empty.
He said, “The cones aren’t up. We should take a walk.”
He put on his backpack, and we strolled around the block. He kept looking around. He asked,
“Is she here yet?”
“No, I don’t see her.”
“Where could she be?”
“She is probably with her mom, and they are probably on their way to school.”
“I hope she gets here soon.“
I glanced toward the opposite side of the street. A car pulled up and stopped. A young woman opened the rear door and two girls got out of the car. I asked,
“Asher, is that her?”
“YES! THAT’S HER! SHE’S HERE!”
The mother and her two daughters crossed the street and headed our way. The girl from Asher’s kindergarten smiled at him. He melted. He hid partially behind me and grinned back at her. She in turn hid behind her mama and peeked out at Asher. Asher was at the brink of blushing.
All of us walked to the parking lot together. The cones were out. The teachers were starting to herd their students. Asher and the girl got in line and began talking excitedly. Suddenly, he remembered that I still existed. He rushed out of the line and hugged me. Then he said,
“Grandpa, you can go NOW! Goodbye!”
He waved frantically.
“Grandpa! GOODBYE!”
I waved back.
“GRANDPA! BYE!!!”
I turned and left him. I smiled.
Frank is Emptiness 