It’s been a little over a decade since I’ve been here. So much has happened it’s amazing how I still remember the exact dates of things and what memories go with what papers I find stashed away in the storage closet by my room.
I found my agenda from my original elementary school and marked moving day as November 15, 2006. The first day at my new elementary was November 27th. I have a feeling I was so excited to move to my new school because I wanted to make new best friends, learn new things, eagerly read new books.
But for the next few years, I only ever went through recurring states of depression.
With a bit more rummaging, I came across my fifth grade yearbook. The only people I truly remember were my two best friends: one who taught me how to sing and one who wrote me “secret admirer” letters for my birthday and the first thing we ever talked about was how her hippie 70s style headband smelled like her sister’s makeup.
I remember thinking my favorite parts of it would always be the autograph sections.
In it, I found the sloppy signatures of people who never even remembered me by the time we got to high school. People with preppy names like Dillon Hudson and Adam Trautman. I’ll bet they’d never even remember they signed my yearbook, much less remember my name. I knew this gymnast–she was always so quiet. It shocked me how I didn’t even know she and I were on a first name-phone number-basis when we were eleven. She seemed too pretty to be my friend. Another signature read “Baniel” and I could recall the exact moment that happened. He was signing my yearbook on a wall and his hand slipped when he tried to sign “Daniel” like a movie star.
Then come freshman year in high school I remember the exact moment (with the original draft sheet) when I decided the name of my clothing line. Then notes from my sophomore year chemistry class came doodled with the lyrics of my first complete song with accompaniment. And rants and rants about how my senior crush will never notice me, as no boy ever did in my life.
Sheet music filled binders and folders from when band took over my life in high school, doodles of monsters peeking from between measures and “S.O.S.” notes on almost every page to fill my boredom during the agonizing concert rehearsals.
Shoot, even memories from my freshman year in college are looking pretty distant already.
I found a letter I’d written the day before my birthday that moving year and I intended to send it to my best friend back in my old neighborhood. I told her all about my new friends and how I missed my old school so much already.
A lot has changed.
And it sure does frighten me.