Lost Memories

The lack of memories is a good thing. Or, more to the point, the lack of bad memories is a good thing. When I remember only happy times at school, I know that nothing bad happened to me that year. When I remember nothing about a particular school year, then I know it was a happy year.

When I was seven, we moved to a different town and I entered second grade at a neighborhood school. I had never been to a neighborhood school before and it was a complete change from my previous experience. This school was near my house so I was able to walk there, plus it was small with only two or three grades. My younger sister was in first grade that year but I don't remember anything about her except for a few vague memories of us walking home together. It was a good time.

My first day is definitely engraved in my memories. I remember walking to school. I remember the little girl who was assigned to be my friend for the day and show me around. I remember the playground at recess and how the girls mostly sat on the ground under a huge oak tree and talked about girl things. I remember the boys running around and playing their games. I remember the jungle gym, the slide and the swings which I would play on during many recesses in the future.

I had a wonderful year there with friends from my neighborhood at that small neighborhood school. I remember the fun but the memories are lost and that's a good thing.