I remember animal crackers and new school supplies.
I remember an exuberant heart and butterflies.
I remember seating arrangements and secret notes and being told not to talk so much.
I remember that my crush liked me back but we hardly ever talked because that terrified us both.
I remember swing sets and double dutch and wallball and soccer.
I remember singing groups and friend groups and singing with my friend groups.
I remember tears on the last day of school -- there were no social networks or driving licenses for eleven-year-olds.
I remember silly best friend fights and spending every hour of summer sunlight outdoors.
I remember being mermaids in the swimming pool and having backyard campouts for spend-the-nights.
I remember making a list counting down to the time when I could do all I do now; now everything on that list is crossed out.
I remember being a kid looking forward to turning eighteen.
Now I'm turning eighteen, and I remember.
