Summer has ended for most people. Today my grandson starts second grade. A huge part of me wishes I could be there with him in Seattle, take his hand and walk with him into his new classroom. Well, I'm sure the take his hand part wouldn't happen. But maybe I would be allowed to take a peek at where he will be spending the next nine months.
When I see all the ads for back-to-school stuff and see Facebook photos of kids standing in front of their front doors, smiles on their faces, it stirs memories. Memories we all have of first days. New classrooms, new friends, new beginnings.
For some reason, my memories pull up fourth grade. May, to be exact. I was extremely shy. Always would be right through college. So when my teacher, Mrs McMahon asked me to be a princess in the May Day court, I was shocked. I remember running home to my house to find my mother baking pies in the kitchen. She didn't go back to work until the following year so I was able to share with her my joy and excitement.
We remember those highs and lows in our lives. What I wonder about is the in-between times. Those memories that don't quite make the list. I see myself in kindergarten drinking milk and eating graham crackers and then in first grade learning to read. Then time skips and I'm in third grade with Mrs. Dawson, scared of the teacher they called Dogface Dawson.
What happened in second grade? I can't pull up one scene. No pictures of my classroom in the old brick building a few miles from my house. Nothing.
How much time in our life is forgotten because something monumental didn't cause us to remember it? What else was happening then?
I think about all this stuff and yes, it's just stuff, as the season turns. What will I remember about this past summer? What will lodge a permanent home in my memory to pull out some day and smile? Or cry?
If anything over the years, I've learned to appreciate each day a little more. Grab onto it and find a purpose. Today started like any other day but I have a plan. A plan to make a memory. Do you?