It was a nice drive in. I pulled into my usual spot. Mike pulled in beside me in his white SUV. Mike is in his late thirties, has large, dark disney eyes and a subtle somber expression on his face, which compliments his depression beard. that being said, he has a very afflicting laugh and is often quite cheerful. Similar to you, he tends to roll his eyes at me often, even though he has to repress his laughter as well.
"The day has come, my friend," I said to him. He was having a smoke in front of his vehicle.
"I don't know what you guys are gonna do without me," I add. "Someone else needs to provide the craziness around here." Mike had one of those subtle laughs escape his expression, as he often does when talking to me.
"Maybe Andrew?" he asks. Andrew is the horticulturalist, also a full-timer like Mike.
"Nah," I shake my head. "Andrew's too heavy." Mike laughs. To add, Andrew can't float off into space like I can.
Dave wasn't there. My final day and our boss is absent. Mark Miller, the lead hand, is there to call out our names and assign our daily duties in his place. But for the first time in my three seasons working for Parks and Recreation, this wasn't done. Seriously. Everyone just got up. As if we all knew what we were supposed to do.
I looked at Miller. Then I looked at Mike. Then back at Miller.
“So, am I with him?” I point to Mike.
“Yeah. You guys are doing picnic tables.”
It ended up being four of us. Myself and Zack, a temporary full-timer or TFT who’s a year older than me and has a reputation for being extremely loud and obnoxious. I was shocked that he was even hired back. The morning I saw him here again on my first day back, my motivation dropped significantly. He had really matured over the summer, though. Mike and Ian took another truck with a trailer for the tables. Ian was a bulked up Scottsman who’s Dad recently passed away after complications resulting from heart problems and a car accident.
While driving I just took in the scenery. It was my last day not just at Parks, but in my hometown altogether. I would be a while until I saw glazing farm fields on a summer morning like that. Time felt slow. The air was peaceful. It was nice.
We spent the morning at this really weird farm. It was literally just an old barn and a field full of picnic tables. We loaded up maybe seven or eight tables, all the while Zack teaching me how to strap them down properly so they don’t fly off and hit one of the residents taking their morning walk along the road. It was simple stuff, though I appreciated him trying to be a mentor of some sorts. It was a nice jump from the obnoxious party figure he had been known for.
By the time we got back to the yard and begun unloading the tables, this guy who’s literally late every day showed up. He woke up at 8 am and drives from Angus, which is an hour away. Adam, or Big D as he’s known, has basically four times as much muscle and body mass as I do, so I was switched to garden crew for the rest of the day. Normally that’s my go-to thing and I had been on garden crew like once the entire summer, so it was a fitting touch for my last day.
Shelia drove me to where Andrew and Jessica were working. Shelia’s in her late 50’s and works her ass off so she can exhaust herself enough to sleep at night, or so Mark Seagram says. Mark’s the motorbike guy who like’s Joe Rogan. He gills the baseball diamonds, which is basically driving a giant tractor with a thing on the back that smoothens the baseball diamonds out. On the drive there Shelia was telling me about her oldest sister who has leukemia and is about to check out. It seemed like she has a nice family. She’s the youngest of nine siblings, and her sister in question had six daughters. Irish folk really do have huge families, I guess.
Sheila dropped me off at the fire hall, where I met with Andrew and Jessica. Andrew’s the horticulturalist I mentioned. He’s in his early 40’s and collects really old game consoles and games. He’s paid over $1000 for some of them. So has Mark Seagram. Andrew is a really nice guy and will buy you lunch sometimes, but he’s also lazy as shit, truth be told. He worked in Human Resources for a while and apparently learned to appear to be busy from that, because he’s very sly in making it seem as though he’s being productive when in reality he finds ways to avoid a lot of work.
Jessica is in her early 30’s, also part of the garden crew, and is a sweetheart. She’s probably the most adult person working at that place. She’s also vegan, enjoys gardening, and drawing mushrooms in the break room in the morning. Her and I make fun of Andrew a lot behind his back, but I think he’s well aware of this and doesn’t really care.
The two of us took off to weed some garden beds while Andrew stayed behind to “help” Mark Greg with some trees. Mark is one of the tree guys who literally just chops and shreds trees. By the time we got back there we just did whatever work they were supposedly doing without us.
“Andrew will be like, ‘Can you guys help me not do this and actually I’ll watch you do it?” I joke to Jessica. She laughs. Apparently I make people laugh, but I’m not a funny person, I promise. Life is just funny. I remind people of that.
Andrew bought us Harvey’s for lunch afterward. Like I say, he’s legitimately a nice guy. We both had double veggie burgers with onion rings and fries respectively. Andrew has this $3 junior burger deal they had.
I had my burger stuffed with every topping I could get.
“I think that’s the most I’ve seen you eat in all the years that you’ve been here,” Andrew remarks.
“I need a fork when I go to Subway,” I add. “And they need a knife to close the buns.”
“We’re probably gonna be in a food coma after this,” Jessica warns him. We both laugh.
We tackled one more shrub bed and then did a very typical activity of Caledon Parks and Recreation, which is go for a joy ride for the rest of the day. I took this opportunity for a nap, as I only got an hour of sleep again last night. I was doing Mark Seagram a portrait of Guy Martin, a British racer he really likes, and didn’t get to sleep until like 4:00 am again. I woke up to Andrew’s yelling after hearing a faith conversation between the two.
“Blair!!!” My head jolts upward. We’re in Dick’s Dam, a park in Bolton that literally has the worst garbages of all the parks in Caledon. It’s one reason I hate it so much.
“Hey Blair, do you like pineapple on Pizza?”
We weren’t getting pizza. He just wanted to know.
I fell back asleep and woke up back at the yard.
My last day was over.
I went up to my locker and gathered my things. An old sweater I’d had since I was 14. My work pants which I hadn’t washed all summer. They had gone from a fine tanned fabric, the little hairs of the wool standing up, to this muddy grey color with a flat yet damp texture with a bit of a shine from all the dirt that had hardened into the fibers of the same fabric. Look, I’m bad at describing things, so I’m not going to try. The point is that the pants were disgusting. There’s also a pair of work boots that are ripping, a plastic Percy train from Thomas the Tank engine I found when working for Public Works the Summer before I started at Parks, and a button with a map of St. Louis on it.
“It’s your last day then, eh?” Big D says to me.
“Yeah, man,” I say with some somber tone lingering.
“You feel happy?”
“Meh.” I try to seem happy. “I guess so.”
“Cause it’s like, not just work but like, everything for you, eh?”
This was true. My parents were gone. I didn’t even live in Caledon anymore and commuted two hours each day from Oakville. I wasn’t just leaving my summer job. I was leaving a life behind.
“I guess so. It’s not sad or anything, it’s just like, a frog that jumps from one Lilli pad to another.” I get a laugh from this, but Big D laughs at everything.
“You know,” he begins his story, “like I went through a lot of shit this year, right?” [I’ll just clarify here; Big D went through a messy divorce and he and his four-year old daughter are now living with a buddy of his and some 20-something girl who keeps him up all night drinking and doing blow and then wakes him at 4:00 am for sex.]
“And like, despite my life changing so much this year, I don’t really care that much. Like not as much as I would have when I was your age.” Big D is like ten times more nonchalant and eccentric as I am. He’s like a jolly Santa Clause in his early 30’s who drinks, smokes, does drugs and knows a lot of guys from heavy metal bands.
“Like, I could lose my leg and I’d be like, ‘Well, that’s unfortunate. Guess I’ll grab a stick and become a pirate!”
I’ll miss some of these people. Big D is one of them.
I went to my car to drop all my shit off. I had this bin of old toys I gathered after my parents moved away, which I had been meaning to give to Mike all summer. Mike has two boys aged five and nine, I believe. I already gave him one box earlier in the summer. I had another box sitting in the backseat of the ones I was more attached to. They were being showed love and affection by being left in the hot sun all day, going from a firm plastic to a bendable rubber. I was still letting go. Part of me wanted to keep it. Maybe they would have value one day. Instead I quickly scavenged through the box and picked out my favorite ones, which were mostly some tiny plastic Simpsons toys and a couple dinosaurs. I left those in my backseat and put the box on the roof.
As everyone left, I darted back and forth from one coworker to another, giving handshakes and hugs to those who meant a lot to me in the years I had been there. Mike was the last person in that chain of goodbyes, and he was already in his SUV, ready to take off. I had the bin of toys sitting on my roof, waiting for him. In a final act of kindness, I grabbed the bin, opened his passenger door and placed the box on the seat.
“More toys?!!” he exclaimed with a tone of excitement that reminded me of Toy Story for some reason. Mike also sounds an awful lot like Seth Rogan. That’s worth noting.
“You’ll enjoy them more than I will, man,” I said, satisfied in finally letting them go. As a final touch, I grabbed the handful of toys I had meticulously picked out from the box before and tossed those in through his window.
“I was gonna keep these,” I said, leaning in through the door window, “but fuck it, I don’t even want em!”
He laughed. We said our goodbyes.
I jumped in my Toyota one last time and sped off down the highway.
You always want moments like this to be akin to Hollywood movies with an emotional somethingness or whatever. But they usually just end up being another mundane moment like driving home from work usually is.
But it wasn’t like that. It felt like something final. It felt meaningful in some way.
That was my day.
I hope you had a good day too.