the “last” first day.

An all too-familiar routine. Dad reading the paper, my brother finishing his bacon and eggs, my mom cleaning the kitchen, and me, watching the frenzy, as I always eat my breakfast much earlier. My theory is, by getting breakfast out of the way, you have the last fifteen minutes before leaving set apart for the “what am I forgetting?” questioning period.

The first day of school. Sheesh: have I not past this point in my life YET? Well, I haven’t and am still trying to accept that, but I’ve just completed my “last” first day of school, the first day of Grade 12. I was feeling ridiculous and made my mom take a picture of myself and my younger, but much BIGGER brother. How embarassing is the fact that I haven’t grown since I was 12 years old? What can I say; there’s truly no hope. My Grandma at her tallest was just over 5 foot and my mother is a short 5′2; the same height as me.