The second thing I remember from my first day of Kindergarten was playing on a jungle gym and running full blast, I clotheslined myself on a steel bar.
My first day of high-school, I don’t think I knew anyone ‘cept a few who went to Carr School.
I was walking from my first period class to my second and I was late. I saw some guy walking to his class and I said, “That’s a cool band on your shirt.” I just wanted to see how he’d react. I gradually made gauging prime reactions the quest of my next two years.
The guy was a rare person whose reaction matched their character at such an age. We ended up being in a cooking class together, becoming friends. I learned that his name was Carter. It’s an odd thing to meet someone with a sense of honor that isn’t stunted or nonexistent. There was no shade to anything that was ever said between us and you could actually listen to his words instead of tones.
I made it to the first period, late, and met a few more of my new classmates. There were a few people I already knew, we bunched together near the center of the room over the same reasons that drew early man to seek fire.
We gradually formed bonds over plays we wrote together and ideas dawning on us that fanned flames of this newfound freedom. Growing up right before each others eyes, except for that first pixie-dusted semester, in that time we gave impressions by which our growth could be gauged.
It’s not all the pretty horses, not at all. It’s not that the pasture was green either, but it wasn’t just the pretty horses. Not by a long shot.