A year ago today I got up and went down to the school. I stood with my whole class and everyone was so excited, taking pictures.
We walked onto the stage all together. We were a unit. Everyone was themselves. They had their character that everyone knew.
And everyone walked across that stage, dropped rocks into the aquarium, had nice things said about them. The last one whispered, "It's a turtle!" The hats went up. The crowd cheered. Secret handshakes ensued.
Hugs, tears, late late lunch, a few hours, and a boat ride later we were all around the campfire. Everyone was themselves. We were a unit. We slept under the stars, ran across town, dragged ourselves to breakfast. And I almost forgot to cry... until the next afternoon when I almost forgot to stop.
And now it's been a year, today. I feel like I blinked and missed something, but at the same time it's so funny.
Because we're still a unit in some strange connected way, like a small web that has been stretched to hug the globe.
And everyone is themselves, even more than they were a year ago. We're becoming more ourselves all the time.
A lot of people have been reminiscing today. As one friend said, happy anniversary everyone. I hope that as time passes swiftly along, you glance back fondly and forget to cry.