I’ve spent the past few weeks at my parents’ house in the suburbs, taking nice long walks with Jake. He’s my brother’s dog, and the closest thing to grandchildren our parents are likely to have in the foreseeable future.
Jake and I like to walk down to my old elementary school, and last week we noticed that big pre-Labor Day change: The parking lot was full and the teachers were there, construction paper and markers in hand, readying up their classrooms for the incoming students. It’s back-to-school time.
My first walk to this school? We had just moved to town, and it was the first day of fourth grade. It was also my birthday, which is why I affixed a pin that said, “It’s My Birthday” to my tucked-in denim shirt (worn with jeans, natch). The only thing I remember about the day – aside from my awesome outfit – is that I forgot my lunch and had to eat some PB&J the cafeteria kept on hand for absent-minded little girls like me.