Twelve

Four polo shirts, two khaki skorts, one skirt, and a plaid skort from 3rd grade hang idly in my closet tonight. Washed and ironed for the last time in June. Twelve years of history went into those clothes. I wore them everyday. I had a routine: Green polo on Monday, navy blue polo on Tuesday, white shirt Wednesday, light blue on Thursday, and navy blue again on Friday because it was my favorite; alternating skorts every day based on what spilled during lunch--which my dear mother packed for me everyday all the way through senior year. I had two pairs of flats: One black and one brown. I had a logo sweatshirt which I would wear in the winter months paired with black dress pants.

Twelve years.

Twelve full years of classical, private, Christian school.

Twelve years of memories.

Twelve years of mafia games.

Twelve years of amazing teachers.

Twelve years of Biblical truths instilled in me.

Eight years of anticipating Mock Trial and four unforgettable years of participating.

Twenty-twelve. Twelve students. Twelve years.

Today was bittersweet...mostly bitter. Today was the first day of The River Academy's 2012-13 school year. Today 200 students woke up, picked out their favorite of the four polos, ate breakfast, and drove to the big brick building on the corner of Crawford and Okanogan. 200 students lined the halls, stomped on the brown carpet, and carried their backpacks that may as well have carried bricks. They unloaded their pencils, rulers, lined paper, notebooks, binders, Bibles, and dictionaries into their little cubbies and lockers.

I was not one of those 200 students.

Twelve years of going to school and suddenly after a two hour ceremony, it all comes to a screeching halt. It all ends. Just like that. In the snap of a finger.

Today I woke up, put on my skirt for work, and headed to an office where I sat behind a computer until 5 o'clock this evening. I love my job. But today I wanted be somewhere else. I wanted to join those 200 students in that school, which has been my second home for twelve years.

In three weeks, I will board a plane. I will fly to the unknown world of Schladming, Austria. Life will drastically change. No more uniforms. No more backpacks. No more TRA.

I am beyond excited for my new adventure, for this new chapter. But today, it's sinking in. The first chapter of my life has come to an end. It's over. It's time to move on.

Everyone has to grow up. And I am ready for my time.

...but today it's more bitter than sweet.

“All children, except one, grow up. They soon know that they will grow up, and the way Wendy knew was this. One day when she was two years old she was playing in a garden, and she plucked another flower and ran with it to her mother. I suppose she must have looked rather delightful, for Mrs Darling put her hand to her heart and cried, ‘Oh, why can’t you remain like this for ever!’ This was all that passed between them on the subject, but henceforth Wendy knew that she must grow up. You always know after you are two. Two is the beginning of the end.” 
-J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan