The Year

Not much to post about again. It is the end of the year, school is finishing up, and everything seems calm and lazy. It's kind of nerve-racking. "The school year is over!" The paper seems to rustle. "Your job is almost done!" says the scratch of your pencil. Your backpack is starting to show wear and tear, signs of endless hours hauling heavy books. Your desk,locker,cubby, is messy, old, full of laughter and stories, like the soft wrinkles in an old face. It is the end, yet only the beginning of a new chapter, one of lemonade stands and swimsuits, late night sleepovers and early morning snores. Then the year will start again, with fresh paper, earnest pencils, clean backpacks and young lockers. Maybe it has to end, has to die, to start over, to become young again. But that doesn't make the passing of another year any less painful.