tIn first grade, I always sat by my friend Michelle on the bus. Michelle was in a wheelchair and she could only communicate in facial expressions, most of which were smiles. She always had a smile for me. Michelle is a good memory, even if everything else about first grade was not. My teacher was scary. I did not like her. I remember I wet my pants once because I was too afraid to raise my hand to ask to go to the bathroom. And one day, my class was eating outside and I was sitting next to Michelle and the teacher and Michelle's aid. I looked at Michelle at one point and she smiled. I smiled back. Unfortunately, I had food in my mouth. I hadn't opened my mouth wide, though. The only reason my teacher knew I had food in my mouth was because I had just taken a bite of my sandwich or whatever I was eating. She snapped, "Don't laugh with your mouth full." I didn't understand. I was smiling, not laughing. Didn't she know the difference? She threatened to take away my lunch if I didn't stop it. I continued to smile at Michelle. My teacher yanked my lunch away. I burst into tears.

Second grade I had a much nicer teacher. We were living in a different town, at my maternal grandparents' house while my dad earned his master's degree in education so that he could be a teacher. That year, I had two friends: Theresa and Laura. They were "normal" little girls, and they seemed to think that I was normal too, despite my disabilities. There was also a boy who sat behind me. His name was Jeffrey and he was sort of my boyfriend. He was so nice, helping me out, holding my hand when I walked without my walker. I had bad balance, still do. I can't walk without some kind of support. And there was this other girl, named Sarah, who wasn't able to talk very much. She didn't like people very much, but she liked me for some reason. And that's why she only wanted to play with me at recess. This created problems! I remember one day I decided that I had enough of this, and flat out told her that I wasn't leaving my other friends. She got very upset and stormed off in a huff. We all watched her as she reached the side of the school building at sat down with her head in her arms. My friends and I exchanged glances, and one or more of them shrugged, and I took off after Sarah. When I approached her, she heard me and my walker coming, and stood up, walked away a bit, and sat down in the exact same position. We played this game a couple more times before I finally gave up or the bell rang or something, I can't remember.

I remember I had Theresa over to my grandparents' house a couple times. I remember when she told me that she was moving away at the end of the school year. What a coincidence! I was too! The last time we spoke was on the last day of second grade. I wished I knew enough back then to keep in touch with her. But I didn't. I was sooo naive. I thought that wherever Theresa and I were, we'd always find our way back to each other. I never saw her again. Would like to, though. And Laura and Jeffrey too.

I remember my mom took care of a little baby girl named Sarah a lot that year too. This Sarah cried a lot. I remember that in great detail. I'd come home from school and her mom would be dropping off Sarah and that was the end of any peace and quiet my mom had enjoyed that day. Wah. Wah. Wah. And you want a real coincidence? Last year, at one of my sister's basketball games, my mom found Sarah's name in the program and pointed it out to me. We couldn't find her number on the court, though. She must have been sick or something.

I also remember that year was hard for me emotionally, the beginning of beginnings. I had a major case of separation anxiety every Sunday as my dad kissed me goodnight and left for another week of school. I cried a lot and begged him not to go. It broke his heart, I'm sure, as it did mine. I always was such a Daddy's girl, still am, I suppose. I remember one weekend, he had extra time off from his classes and stayed until Monday. He took me to the bus stop that day, and as I got on, he slid a ring on one of the fingers of my left hand. It had a little blue stone. I knew my birthstone was a sapphire, for September, even back then. I wore that ring until it got too small for my fingers and I lost it.

One last memory of that year: Finding out that I was going to have a baby sister. I was overjoyed. I had been praying for the baby to be a girl ever since I learned that my mother was pregnant again. My mom told me and my brothers that it was a girl practically the moment she found out, since we were with her in the hospital. But she made us promise to keep it a secret from my dad. We were going to have a baby shower that weekend, I guess, and she'd tell him then. But I was watching the driveway for his car, and the moment he drove up, I jumped into his arms and shouted that the baby was a girl. I couldn't help it. That's how excited I was. We went into the house then, and Mom told him the news. Dad said he knew already, that I'd told him. Mom looked at me then, a little disappointed, but she didn't say anything, so I didn't get into trouble over it. HA. HA. HA.