I Returned to My Former High School, yet I Couldn’t Find It
On those we continue to see and those we lost
When I heard that my old high school would be open for visits from the local community, I promptly marked the date on my calendar and eagerly awaited the day.
Last Friday, I set off on my way. As I drove, I loosely counted how many years it had been since I last entered the doors of what had been my second home for six years.
I was startled by the number. Sixteen years had passed since I last walked out of there. I don’t remember the exact moment, but if I could go back in time today, I would certainly tell that teenager to slow down, to cross that line memorizing the moment just as she memorized everything for history tests, and to look back just one more time, thanking for everything she had learned there.
But obviously, only sixteen years later does the nostalgic gaze appear. At the time, I only wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible so I could start another chapter of my life. I was obviously a teenager.
It’s strange when we enter a school daily and feel at home, but when we leave, and it no longer belongs to us, we are almost afraid to go back in. We now know that we are outsiders and that space is forbidden.
