Barkstall Elementary

It was an uneventful December evening and my mom and I were going to my brother’s school to pick him up. He was around ten at the time and went to my old elementary school. It was about ten minutes away and like usual, I spent most of the time trying to connect my phone to the car’s audio system and pick the perfect song for the mood at the time. Usually, it’d come from my winter Spotify playlist, but sometimes I like to switch it up and look for some new music. Before I knew it, we were in the parking lot of the school. Barkstall Elementary School.

I walked outside. The playground looked different, I think they did renovations or something. There was no one on the equipment, it was empty. It was also cold outside, not weather suitable for having fun outside on some metal bars. I remember the tree in the corner where my friends and I would sit and eat lunch. There were a couple of new benches and you could see a small annex in the back of the school. It kind of looked like a shack. It was tacked on, like a secondary thought. I stood at the door and pressed the buzzer. I waited in the cold, reading the signs in front of the door until someone finally let me in. 

I didn’t take my coat off, knowing I wanted to leave as soon as possible. I didn’t know any of these people nor did I need to. I wasn’t a parent. Oh my God, what if someone thought I was a parent? I frantically looked for my brother so we could leave, until I realized where I was. I was in my old cafeteria. I remember lining up by class after lunch to go back to class and making sure I stood my someone I was friends with because I had so much trouble talking to new people back then. I remember that there was a certain place that all the friend groups would sit even though I couldn’t quite remember where that was. I saw my younger self anxiously wait for my class to be called so I would get the good pizza before it was all gone. I was lost in this maze of memories but felt detached at the same time. That isn’t me. That’s someone I used to be familiar with.

I daydreamed about myself going through all the processes of school back then, in the same cafeteria I was standing in, just 10 years older. Sure, the school itself was physically 10 years older, but it had grown with me. It seems as though we had grown in parallels. As it welcomed new ideas, technology, and generations, I welcomed change, character development, and maturity. Although the physical changes it went through were minor, the school I was in was not mine anymore. It was my brother’s, his friends’, and his classmates’. It had a different feel. It was no longer a place I spent all my time in, but rather a place where my brother spends all his time in. Visiting the school felt like I was there after such a long time just to say goodbye. I was simply distantly connected to it due to it being some minor part of my memories, hidden away deeper than I thought combined with my habit of romanticizing the past.