Same school same feeling

Tonight I entered Broadmoor Junior High School through the same doors I had entered twenty six years earlier.  The school really hasn't changed much, besides the fact that it seems a bit smaller now. We were there to attend one of  Parkers last sports banquets as a junior high student.  I spent a good deal of my day processing the fact that very soon, my son would be a high school student.  As the time grew closer, I began to worry about who I may see.  Just walking down the hall, or passing in the parking lot, the jig  would probably go unnoticed.  If by chance, I was seated next to you, it was sure to draw some attention.  Other then the fact one could end up with an elbow in the side, just the utter movement would probably make the ordinary person a bit nervous.  I felt like a teenager going to school for the first day again.

In the spring of 1984, our class of mighty Warriors were told that our final year of junior high would be at a new school.  Budget cuts had lead the district to close, in my opinion a landmark of the city. A year when every teenage girl dreamed of being Molly Ringwald and meeting the perfect boy, I was being thrown into the Bruin den.  The summer leading up to my eighth grade year, I had all but protested the fact that I wasn't going to that school.  Many of my friends were being shipped across town to Edison, whcih was no better, but I had no intention of replacing the yellow and blue school colors with green and white.  I was lucky, my best friend was also being forced to call herself a Bruin and we did rest a bit better knowing we had each other.  I slept very little the day before heading off to unknown territory.  Would the other kids accept us?  Would they feel as though we were invading there domain?  Would they simply greet us with smiles and act as though we had always been there? 

You would have thought we were going to meet our love of the 80's, Rick Springfield.  We were so nervous that first day, much like tonight.  As I walked on to the sidewalk tonight, those same feelings came back to me. A part of me searched for my best friend, where was she when I needed her again?   Twenty six years later, I was once again hoping for acceptance.  Hoping that noone noticed anything new.  Much like 1984, I walked with my head held high, of course I walked a bit slower, and instead of leaning on my friend, I felt comfort of my family around me.  I watched as they praised my only son for working so hard, and to that gave him the most improved player of the year.  I could not have been more proud, well unless he had gotten to wear blue and yellow and call himself a Washington Warrior.  To be honest, that school was good to me so many years ago,and again tonight.  There are going to be many firsts for me.  This fucking disease seems to have taken a little bit of me.  I am holding on tight, to everything else.  It is not going to get me

Today has been a good day.