Sixth Grade Summation and Summer Beginning

That worst year, sixth grade, was over in the blink of an eye. Before long I was once again basking in the rays of summer, with all the taunting about being the "Triplet Genius" gone. Once again there were clear skies, and plenty of space for me to run away from my irksome siblings if I wanted. My sister spent most of our first week out of school, with her head in a book, memorizing Latin (which, we didn't need to know for upcoming 7th grade anyway!). My brother immediately found himself a dozen hardcover 500-page books to entertain himself with. All seemed right in the world.

I recalled that last year of middle school with a grim pride. I had survived. Never again would middle school be so bad. If I could do sixth grade, I could do anything.

I went back to my usual daytime writing, and began scribbling down notes on a new story idea from my spot in the hammock. In the hammock I could see across the street and down the road, watching kids playing in the neighborhood, and trees swaying in the breeze. My orange, bewhiskered cat paced back and forth below the rainbow menagerie of cloth, his tail just brushing the underside.

That first week after sixth grade had let out, I decided to get things done. The first thing I decided, was to clean my room. The desk that should have been clear so I could do my homework was always besieged with crumpled notebook pages, old magazines, and Post-it notes I had forgotten to remember. My shelves overflowed with containers of little odds and ends: hair bands, books, coins, earring backings, and journals. I took my whole room apart, and then put it back together. I began to put together all the pieces of my life, that had fallen apart over that year of middle school.

With each thing I accomplished, pride blossomed inside of me. I finally got to reading the whole book "Little Women", and reread the whole Harry Potter series. I called up my friend and biked with her to get ice cream cones, just so we could spend some quality time together. I played my brother at the computer game that I always refused to be a part of, and I helped my sister study. I played my golden flute until my lips hurt. I did all the things I had been dying to do.

Why do I remember those things, but I don't remember other little moments? It's funny the way the minds works; it's funny how people forget experiences they thought would always stick with them. I wonder what ten years from now I'll remember about this year, and what I will forget. Hopefully I'll forget all the embarrassing moments, but with my luck, those will be the memories ingrained my mind forever. At that moment, though, I simply concentrated on enjoying the first week of summer, and restarting my life.