Lately, I’ve been struck with a case of nostalgia. 
It got me: like an icy snowball to the face. 
It stings at first, but then gets all melty and warm and lingers for a while. 
Paper mâché homecoming floats have been peppering my dreams.
Bake sales and fall afternoons- turning dark and grey before school has let out- they’re in there too. 
I miss the excitement of high school hallways, where the possibility of anything seemed so grand. 
I miss first kisses, first cars, first game of the season. 
I miss the feeling of a new school year, the smell of a new text book, I miss so many firsts. 
I look around and I feel a little left behind.
When did everyone grow-up?
my own image
I got a note from an old high school friend I fall in and out of correspondence with. 
He’s married now, and after nearly 10 years living out west, he’s back in the northeast. 
I bought him a sled one Christmas and etched the sentiment “Happy Trails to Us,” on the outer paneling. 
I knew full well we’d each take different trails after we graduated. 
Hearing from him this week I felt a selfless happiness for him, 
the type that sprouts from the purest part of your soul: true, happiness.
He wasn’t my first love- not even a love, really. But in a strange, unexplainable way, 
it feels like the first one that wasn’t. 
There is a new phase of firsts coming my way.
And maybe this takes the fun out of it but…
I only wish, I knew when.