November 13, 2014

I was walking through the schoolyard with a couple friends as we saw children walking across the lawn with their arms linked. There must of been a continuous chain of at least a hundred or so elementary kids. I suggested to the person next to me that perhaps it was their first day of class. “I don’t think so”, he replied. I looked at my watch to see that it was November 1st, Wednesday. I kept silent but still held on to the notion that it was their first day.

They all sat down, facing the direction they were coming from and someone started singing to them in Spanish. We sat down along with them. A friend sitting next to us said how he didn’t see the point in his existence anymore and that we should leave him. Someone else told him to not say such things in an attempt to comfort him.

Another friend came by and told me to get up and follow her. I was reluctant, but it seemed urgent. We started running by the building of science classrooms. She stopped and told me how frustrating it was that the children couldn’t take the performance seriously. She said how it made her job of taking a good picture of the event so much more difficult.

We continued running until we passed by a room with stacks of yellow metal containers on the table. I looked through the window and found that taped onto one of the boxes was my name along with some of my classmates from when I was in fifth grade. We were the first class to start the yearly tradition of creating what seemed to be time capsules for our future selves. The other boxes had names that I didn’t recognize but I assumed they belonged to students of the following years.