Notes

I have no friends in this class. I think about that sometimes, not in a sad way, just in the "huh, how interesting. I will sit in any seat, because I am not glued to a person or a smile, maybe learn a new name and just watch" I think maybe it is because i'm not a part of the program, or maybe because I can never find the fourth floor with enough time to chat before we take out books out. Maybe its because I spend a lot of time thinking about where I have been. I think a lot about my old school, the tiny house that welcomed me each morning which a hook for my bright bag and sparkly pens. A language I was always ready to raise my hand in. Four girls asked me to have lunch with them on the patio, they were the only girls in the school and I was there new and improved hair to braid lip gloss to borrow hand to hold. We watched the fireworks on Friday nights and as I grew up and my hair curled down my back I loved them more and more. Their parents got divorced, they had there first kisses, we all learned how to wax with the drug store products. We didn't grow up we grew in, like the vines that grew on our grandmothers fences. We painted each others nails during math class, were pairs of partners in on campus salsa class, we gossiped during first period yoga. I knew who I was, I was soft and sweet, I was new and beautiful. There was something about Mexico that held me differently. How interesting it is to say how my life has changed, how interesting it is to know that it will change again this coming year. I will pack a new suitcase and leave my old clutter behind. I will make new clutter, new routines, hopefully even new friends.