If It Were Up to Us: an Elegy to Mr. Tom

For six years at Clovis Grove you made me smile,

even on my worst days.

The six years when I was most naïve;

but even then I knew

you were an extraordinary man.

You knew my name, and everyone else’s too.

We were your kids, the ones who made you happy;

the sunshine in your day—as you were in ours.

Even though you were just a janitor,

you never once let us down.

And even though you weren't our teacher,

you taught us to love life,

live life, and to

enjoy our time here.

We watched your biceps move up and down

like the teeter-totter on the playground,

as you gave them a beat to dance to.

Going to those Muscle Dances was our

favorite thing to do as little kids.

We would've gone to many more

if it were up to us.

Or we’d sit on your big comfy lap,

as you pretended to be Santa Claus,

with that perfect white beard of yours.

That beard that I will never forget.

That beard that I will always love.

Crossing your path in the halls

was the best part of my day.

I always knew you

would be there to make me smile and laugh

with that deep, jolly voice of yours.

Laughter has gotten me so far in life,

and I have you to thank for that.

You taught me to

laugh often,

laugh loud, and

laugh much.

Now that we’re in high school and college,

we’d give anything to still be

in the lunch room that was too big,

or in the hallways that we drew in,

or in our classrooms that you loved to visit;

laughing along with you,

if it were up to us.

The sparkle in your eyes,

like the moonlight in an ocean,

will forever be ingrained in my mind.

As will your presence in my heart.

It was contagious the way you were to us:

we became your copy-cats, your mini-me’s.

Your strive to be free, fun, and considerate was

exactly what I wished I was like.

Now I look in a mirror and picture you

there with me, telling me jokes and then

laughing at yourself, increasing

the wrinkles on your face.

Each time I see a mop bucket,

I chuckle to myself,

remembering how you let me ride on it.

And now, you’ll laugh with me too,

while you’re up there.

You’ll impress everybody with everything you do—

laughing, caring, being free.

You've done it to thousands of young kids here,

you can easily do it to millions of people

where you are now.

I wish you didn't have to impress the ones above

so soon, but someday

I’ll be up there with you too.

And then we can show off our laughter;

laugh until we cry, until our stomachs start to hurt.

But if I could, and if we could,

we would come visit you.

Not up there,

but at your home or

at your school.

If only it were up to us.