As I hung the numbers of the month up on the wall I recalled the last day of school when I was in 3rd and 4th grade. I feel that crying on the last day of school was just sort of a tradition growing up. The teachers would cry, the students would cry, it was just one big cry fest as the teachers made the final announcement of the day, "...the year has gone by faster than I'd expected, and it's been so much fun having each of you in my class this year! I'm really going to miss you all!" And I wondered what the last day of class would look like in this classroom. Would anyone cry? I can't imagine they would, but I did when I was young. I never wanted to grow up. Moving a grade higher meant I was growing older, losing time in life.
Time has always been my biggest struggle. I want to look back and say that I used my time wisely... Well, maybe wisely isn't the word I want. More that I took advantage of the time I'd been given and lived FULLY, stocking up on memories and living out every opportunity offered.