It’s funny, the more I try to live in the moment. The more the memories come back. Memories of mean girls, embarrassing moments, and the moments nobody else would remember except for me. I knew no one thought back that far. They didn’t have the attention span for it. But I always think back to that day. The day my life ended and a new one began. That first day. That dreaded first day. That talked about. Dreamed about. Hung up on, first day. That base coat of primer. The liquid excitement that could turn into nervousness any moment. The first day of school. I remember every day. Every story. Every person that dame, and dodged in and out of my life. I remember the fun times. The nicknames. The pranks. The games played. And the glories lost. When you walk in. Quivering, with that extra kick of adrenaline. The one that you know is going to take you through the day. The one that is going to keep you from keeling over. When you think all hope is dead. And that’s what the first day is all about. Reuniting. The rally of egos on high. The day that could make or break your elementary, middle, and high school career. And then you keep walking. You see your friends. After a long summer of grieving. And everything is right. At that very moment, the horror that is known as the first day is gone. The frightening I was dreading forever changed into the biggest dream. The unattainable hope of finding who you are. And molding that with who you want to be. No one pulling me down. That first day changed me. But in a better way. If filled me with the new life I wanted. That day was still living inside me. Giving me opportunity. Giving me comfort. Giving me strength, for whatever may come.