Standing at the Trailhead of Winter

The other day, Mother's Day, I received a text expressing a very happy Mother's Day to those of us who are moms. Because I am notoriously bad about putting numbers into my phone, I had no idea who the text was from. As such, I wasn't quite sure how to respond. I thought about just saying thanks and leaving it at that, but that seemed kind of dismissive. So I typed in, "Yes, Happy Mother's Day!" Yeah, I know. That's about as bad as "Thanks!" The next text I received started off with a nickname only one other person calls me. I knew instantly who it was. And she's not a mom. So, yes, my response was ridiculous to say the least. But this person found it funny. This person is a friend who goes all the way back to fifth grade. She is truly my first best friend. Though we don't see each other often, she let's me know she's thinking about me, and I let her know I'm thinking about her. In one of her text, she said she misses the day...

When I was in the last few months of being a  fourth grader, my family moved from the place we had called home since I was five years old. This meant having to go into a new school at the end of the school year. This meant all the other fourth graders had their friends and weren't too interested in the new kid. My first day I found myself in what everyone referred to as a "portable." It was actually a trailer that had been set up outside the school building because there were more kids than space, and to accommodate all the students, portable classrooms had been pulled onto the grounds and set up. I remember thinking it was kind of cool to have a classroom in a trailer, but when I sat down at the desk the teacher pointed out to me the first day, the coolness factor evaporated and was replaced by feeling completely self-conscious. My knees wouldn't fit under the desk when I scooted my chair forward; they were actually higher than the desk top itself. And there was no...