the little things

I’ve never considered myself a writer (or at least not in recent years), but suddenly, in this moment, I feel compelled to write. Surprisingly enough, it’s not because Abby, Talia and Anjali have all written reflections and I’m worried my mom will ask me why I haven’t written one. It started with an Instagram story from a junior. A picture of a cloudy grey-blue sky over the field side of the high school, a small goalie in bright green standing in the foreground. (A goalie that—almost surprisingly—isn’t me.) “hi i miss you.” Tagged location: “GEORGETOWN DAY HIGH SCHOOL.” I swiped up: “this called me sad in 5 different languages.” Inspired, I scrolled through my camera roll, searching for pictures that evoked similar feelings. With the pictures came these lines.

it’s the little things – driving across chain bridge, the fog rising from the river, victorious

shaking hands with russell right outside the double doors – sometimes wearing a chirpy smile, thankful my head of school would do this; sometimes struggling to keep my eyes open, wishing i didn’t have to use my precious energy to shake his hand, smile and say “good morning”

filling up the blue and yellow mug with coffee i’ve just made in the keurig in the dean’s office (asking first, of course), already late for english

taking an online quiz on polly’s laptop about which animal i am in the middle of an ap chemistry test because she insisted we all take it

stopping in admissions between classes to grab a mint (or two or three)

sitting in the forum during morning meeting or assembly, packed like sardines, still as shocked as i was when i started at gds that an entire school would gather together twice a week in one space

(or skipping morning meeting or assembly, hiding in plain sight in a study room or inconspicuously in the back corner of a physics room, finishing homework or cramming for a test—sorry, quinn)

barging into the college office and begging greg to look at my newest essay “one last time”

crying as i run out of vocal technique and through the jazz room, laughing that the freshmen are worried about me… so cute (i’m totally fine)

lying out on the field on the first warm spring day, soaking up every ray of sunlight i can

reviewing material, writing it out across the windows and whiteboards of a study room

buying soft serve (the best in the world) from the ice cream truck with a friend, making us late to physics

bombarding aden with endless last-minute questions because i was too intimidated by the material to do the homework or study earlier

getting roasted by jason (either one) in class (or, if i’m lucky, roasting them)

taking a “bathroom break” during a test to chat with the learning services office because i’m struggling to focus

yelling at underclassmen boys to get off the turf as i try to warm up

catching a glance of admin standing by the field doors, half under the cover of the first floor, laughing together as they enjoy our soccer game; or of the cross country team, as they stretch in a circle, angled to face the game, cheering every now and then; or, on a rainy afternoon, of the friend group hanging out in a math classroom, watching from above

clapping under the basketball stats table as greg introduces the women’s basketball starting lineup like an NBA announcer, intense music in the background, not awkward and scared, as i once was

making tiktoks in the math center

napping in a big blue library chair

catching a sunset over the field after a sports practice at the lms

begging one or two extra people to come to regional math team—just for a bit (“i promise it’ll be fun”)

sneaking a bite of choir food to a hungry friend—a slice of bread or one precious chik-fil-a nugget

texting my parents to please come pick me up now, as i hear “the building is now closed” over the speaker

Tayae Rogers ’20

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