“When the stars threw down their spears
And water’d heaven with their tears:
Did He smile His work to See?
Did He Who made the Lamb make thee?”
I hold the stars in my hands! thought Vince. These hands, right here, are made of carbon, magnesium, sodium and all that elemental crap, just like the stars, the ocean, the earth. He stared at the large poster, The Periodic Table of Elements, that covered one entire wall of the classroom. Thirty-three spaces had been left to make room for new elements to be discovered. Miss Mendelev, his chem teacher, didn’t even cover the poster up when she gave quizzes or exams.
This was his last class before lunch. It’s Wednesday, so a Banh Mi sandwich iss practically within my reach, as long as the caf doesn’t run out.The wall clock read 12:19, eleven minutes before lunchtime. If I go to the restroom right now, I can hightail it up and be one of the first in line.
So he did. Sure enough, Mena, the cafeteria lady, was there with her tongs, reaching for his sandwich, asking if he wanted extra sauce.
“No thanks!”
“O.K., nice to see you, Vince. Make sure you have a good rest of the day, you hear!”
“It’s good to know I can count on you– for good food, for a great smile, and just for being here,” he said shyly. He was practicing what his therapist had asked him to do–notice his feelings and express gratitude.