I remember break time. It was a time I did not enjoy. Being outside, alone. I remember sitting in the concrete tube: it was huge, round and smooth. It was a good place to sit and eat my sandwich in solitude. I remember opening my lunchbox and thinking, “Peanut butter, again!” Lunch was always the same: two slices of bread glued together with All Gold Fruit Jam, or Black Cat Peanut Butter. I ate because it was time to eat, and I had nothing better to do. I sat on the concrete curve, shaping my back against its smooth coolness. I heard the cries of the children outside my cocoon – playing ‘catches’. How I wished that I could join them! But I was too timid, too shy, too unused to being with strangers – even if they were children. I smothered my longing with a bite of the sandwich, the sticky texture adhering to my palate. I remember day was warm. My legs were uncovered, my white ankle socks high enough to keep the brand new shoes from hurting the bony back of my feet. The trees in the playground were green, and the grass had not yet been worn away by the running feet of children. The bell rang. Finally. I left the safety of my haven and walked towards the line outside the classroom. At least inside I could work happily on the activities given to me by the teacher. Maybe inside I could learn to make friends.
(Kellie is back! Join her and her writing bandits for the first #FWF prompt. This week we are asked to write about our first memory. My memory is of the first days at school when I knew no-one and had not yet made friends.)