Friday, August 14, 2015

BURNING BRIDGES

“I know now that I have crossed a bridge which burned behind me…the world of sunshine and lollipops is gone, that I have made the first step toward self-understanding; whether I shall finally see reality is an unknown factor and where I go from here is also uncertain.  But the past is lost…irretrievably lost.  How true the clichés!  I can never go back!”  

My thoughts after the accidental encounter with a snow plow were as dramatic as only a high school girl can express them, and rather inaccurate as well, since the first three years of high school were certainly not just "sunshine and lollipops."  But with the resilience of youth, the very next line of my journal (without even a paragraph break!) described the introduction of coed volleyball in gym class:  "I was terrified when I first heard it but it wasn’t really bad, even fun.  The boys just ignored us, even tho’ we were on the same team.”

And, of course, my great consolation was going to Yearbook after school. I had begun to copy the beautiful handwriting of Russell, the literary editor on whom I had developed my major crush. "I live for Yearbook, and our meeting today was fantastic.  There was such a sense of joyful camaraderie, especially at the end when only [a few of us] were left.  We worked and joked...and we all got on famously.  I really, truly felt accepted."  

On the Friday before we left for Christmas break, I announced that “Today was the perfect climax to this past week.  This morning we had a Christmas assembly which was fun and beautiful, especially the band and the French horns, which were nostalgic, and I wished I hadn’t sold the horns we had.  But it was still great.  Then at lunch, [we] had a party at our table; we had a tablecloth, candles, glasses, ravioli, milk, and brownies.  It caused quite a sensation, and everyone enjoyed it.  Then we had a Christmas party in Spanish with a piñata.  I got lots of candy and gave it to the people in Yearbook—also the brownies left from the party.  Yearbook was icing on the cake [or maybe on the brownies].  We finally did finish the book, at least the section to page 107.  We worked until 8:30 pm....The glory and the strain can never be recorded here, but it was delightful."  I’m guessing the glory was more delightful than the strain! 

I remarked that Russ "and I really got to know each other—he got 800 Verbal SAT, 793 Math, 800 on Math Level II and Chemistry Achievement, and 157 on NMSQT—I got 150....  What a guy!  I’m really getting serious about him.  I can’t describe all the puns and Tom Swifties, the excellent captions I wrote, and all the fun we had."  I had finally met someone whom I recognized as an intellectual superior, who had an endearing sense of humor as well. When I watched Star Trek again for the first time in weeks, the character of Mr. Spock paled beside the flesh and blood real boy who had captured my attention.





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