“That’s his desk. Right there!” A. says and points to his friend’s pint-sized table and chair. “I’m going to leave him a note. To find when he comes to school tomorrow.”
“Go for it,” I say. I think it’s a great idea. Who doesn’t want a nice note to start your day?
I love little kid notes: I like you. You’re nice. I’m glad you’re my friend. They cut to the chase. Strip everything down to the basics.
What would happen if adults started leaving notes for friends? At work, I imagine Chaz slipping a torn piece of computer paper under the office adjacent to his: Let’s have coffee. Or me handing a card to a mom who I don’t know well but think we could have bunches in common: Let’s be friends.
Ah, if life were that simple.
“Done,” A. says.
“High five!” I raise my hand and wait for the slap of palm hitting palm.
“You know it.” A. smiles and struts to the hallway.