memories as good as gold.

there's something about this time of day,
this time of year,
the smell outside,
the way the sun sets low with a deep orange glaze behind it,
the cool breeze that hits just as the afternoon sets in,
the hustle & bustle of everyone anxiously awaiting summer,
the sound of the crickets chirping,
the lightening bugs dancing through the sky,
all of these things make me want to write.

 For the last few days, i've had the opportunity to have some serious "me" time. That hasn't been a very prominent part of my life lately, and it's been good to enjoy it for the last few days.
 Yesterday, I rode out through the country and even turned my radio down for awhile. I began thinking back through the past, and i find myself doing that a lot, but yesterday it was different.
 I began thinking about the nights before the first day of school, and the way i couldn't sleep for being so excited. I can remember waking up before my mom would come in, and i would pretend to be asleep. i always looked forward to seeing everyone, especially the people that i hadn't seen all summer.
 I would get up, brush my teeth, hair, and change into an outfit that had been bought for that particular day, and go downstairs. I had packed my backpack the night before with all of my new school supplies, and after breakfast I was ready to go.
 Matt and I would more than likely fight over who got to sit up front (even though we were only going a half a block down the road), and oftentimes he won that battle. The butterflies usually set in as we pulled in the circle drive of the school. Weaving through the sea-saws, the people, the mothers, and the teachers, I made my way into my classroom where all of the familiar faces were shining just as bright as mine. I can't remember all that we discussed, but it probably included how cool our new lunch boxes were, or what we brought for snack-time.
 I remember the particular smell that the hallway had after not experiencing it all summer, and the way there always seemed to be something new on the playground on the day of our first recess. That playground seemed endless to me when I was younger.
 As the years have progressed, I've slept fine through the night before the first day, and even in the mornings i don't have to pretend to be asleep because usually I AM! I still recognize the "first day of school" smell, but it takes me a little longer to get ready than it used to. I no longer have to fight with Matt over who sits where or what we listen to because he drives his own vehicle to work, and I take myself to school. I don't have to weave through toys or people simply because i'm usually running late. The talk at school isn't about our lunchbox or what's for snack; it's about when our first holiday is, and what we did over the weekend.
 Then i began thinking about softball. The first day of summer practice when we had to interrupt laying out to put on clothes that would (more than likely) cause a tan line, come to practice, smother in heat (without the exception of diving off in a pool), and running. Or maybe the first late February practice when it's too cold to breathe, the bat stings your hands as you swing, and you have on too many layers of clothes to move. The games where we traveled hours to play, watched movies or gossiped, sometimes slept, but nevertheless, we made memories. The softball field has been the link that's held me to some of the friends that I have. It's the place that keeps our memories a secret, and it's the place where a lot of us feel the most comfortable.
 I started thinking about how the first days of school from now on will be shared with unfamiliar faces, and playing softball won't ever be as comfortable for me because I won't be playing it with the girls that i've grown up with. The Christmas break stories will never collide because we won't be in class to share, and Spring Break will more than likely (for some people) consist of new people they aspire to make memories with.
 Then I skipped to the first pep rallies, the way the screams from the gym would echo all the way down the halls, and the blue and gold would flash through the bleachers like strikes of lightening. I'm burned with the image of nervous boys making their way out on the football field in a straight line to stretch and later make their way to the sidelines. The sound of the National Anthem rings clearly in my head, and it seems as if the entire town has shut down and gotten out of their vehicles to salute the flag. As the sun is setting, the boys are kicking off, and our small town is alined all the way around three sides of the field to watch their every play. There are Alumni, teachers, students, and children everywhere.
 Or maybe it's the high school weekends that i'm going to miss so much. Riding around to old country music, talking about what we think the future might hold, stopping on an old dirt road and turning it into a small party of people. Maybe it's the close-knit relationship of everyone I have around me that i'm afraid of losing.
There have been so many memories i've made with my classmates over the last thirteen years, and I can only hope that the greatest ones will remain instilled into my brain until i'm too old to remember my own name.
 I don't write this in regret. I have done my best to live out every moment for fear that it would all slip right through my fingers, and I would want to go back. That has happened, even though I haven't done it intentionally. People say, "All good things must end", and I see that. I'm looking forward to the future, to life in a new way, a different normal, but it is bittersweet to watch it all fading into the past. I'm not naive to say that just because i'm graduating in three weeks, there will be no more sporting events to attend, no more small town weekends, or anything to that nature. I'm simply saying that it will be a slight change in atmosphere for all of the sixteen graduates. We will all, in some way, form or fashion, grow away from each other (or most of us will), and that too, is bittersweet.