This week we attended our grandson's spring concert at the Middle School on Newtown Lane. And just as it did back when we used to attend our children's concerts there, I spent a bit of the time glancing around and remembering .....so many things.
I spent six years in that building, from 7th through 12th grade, back in the late 1960s. That means 188 days time 6, or over 1000 days there. They were days of fun, stress, angst, depression, euphoria - days when I grew from a gawky 12-year-old to a tentative 18-year-old, and received my push out into the wider world of adulthood. There are many memories there. The sounds in that auditorium ring in my head - the voices of band and chorus teachers, and laughter in the early moments before classes started and my friends met in there to sit together and start our days. I remember where the marching band uniforms were stored over there off stage, and my time on stage in our senior musical.
Memories are funny things. They comfort us and they nag us, and sometimes they make us smile, or feel old. Or even allow us to mark the passage of time when a grandson stands in the same place where I once did to sing with his classmates or play his instrument with his friends.