Life in the Fast Lane


Those Good Old Days

By 9:48 AM , , , ,

I get home last night and open Facebook, which I normally don't do. (My social networking sites are open all day while I'm at work, so I try not to go online again once I'm home; gotta love being in advertising.) I find out that I'm tagged in this particular photo, which already generated a lot of comments by the time I check it out.

Apparently, it turned out to be our kinder class photo.

There I am in the back row, fourth from left. I don't know why I'm not looking at the camera, but knowing how fast I lose my concentration for certain things, something must've gotten my attention. I'm smiling my typical kiddie smile (front teeth over lower lip, very Bugs Bunny-esque) and my hair's tied back with a frou-frou white lace ribbon. I'm pretty sure my mom was the one who styled my hair that morning, knowing that her firstborn would have her first-ever class picture.

This picture amuses me so much because I didn't realize who my classmates were at the time. Out of the 159+ people I graduated with in high school, three of my very good friends to this day happened to be my kindergarten classmates. Those three friends of mine, in fact, are the same girls in this blog entry. Life is funny.

This picture also takes me back to my four-year-old self and the things that consumed my existence: Care Bears, Rainbow Brite, Popples, Smurf, Snoopy, red Velcro sneakers, Radio Flyer wagons, mid-afternoon naps, black patent Mary Jane shoes, frilly clips and ribbons, Sunday best dresses, Sunday School, playing with my toddler cousin and brother, trying to prance around the house in my mom's heels, afternoons of being taught how to speed read by my dad, and the world at my fingertips.

I miss those days.

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