This was it.
Something utterly terrifying and completely unpredictable lay ahead. All I had to do was walk up the last few, concrete steps in front of me and make my way through the thick double doors that resided at their top. A few of the steps, I noticed, were cracked or crumbling in different places as if they were tired of supporting the weight of each person who made their way up or down them. Here and there, straggly weeds had forced their way through the cracks of the steps; giving them an unkempt, broken look. Vaguely, I wondered how many other teenage girls like myself had stood in this exact same spot, staring at these same exact steps, contemplating whether or not they were worth the climb.
This would be my junior year of high school and nothing in the world was more terrifying than that. It was one step further away from being a child and one step closer to becoming an adult. And if there was one thing that both scared and excited me beyond belief it was the thought of finally growing up and leaving just a bit more of my past behind me.
No, I was not scared of becoming an adult; it was this in-between, unknown stage that I dreaded.
But greater and more terrible than all this was the real reason for me to be frightened of this first day of school. My entire life had fallen apart on this day two years ago and the memories that now entered my mind were painful and broken. I did not want to relive the past.
Everything down to the very depths of my soul was screaming at me to turn around and run away. But I had learned that no matter how much you ran, whether you ran until your chest burned and your eyes stung, or until your knees wobbled and would no longer support your weight, your life would still catch up with you.
I had tried running from my life a long time ago; needless to say, it hadn't worked.
Two years ago, on my first day of high school, I had walked confidently, unafraid, and even a bit excitedly into the only high school building in a small town in the state of Nebraska. Things had gone perfectly well at first. I had met a nice girl named, Chloe, had not fumbled over my name when the teacher called on me and had caught the eye of a cute guy named Seth during lunch.
Life could not have been more perfect. But that's the funny thing about life. It tricks into thinking life is perfect and wonderful just before it pulls the floor out from under neither your feet.
The principle, a thin, pencil-like man, took me out of class to talk to me in the cold deserted hallway. In a solemn voice that carried no hint of sympathy or sorrow in it, he told my that my father had just been killed due to a gas leak at the factory he was working in.
My mind had gone blank and I was incapable of forming thoughts or perceiving sounds. I could no longer feel or move. My mother came to pick me up and in a shocked silence, my first day of high school ended with the death of my father. I wanted to never return.
After the funeral, my mother and I packed up and left that little town in Nebraska. The memories there were too numerous and painful. It was best to simply run away and start over.
We settled down in the bustling city of Atlanta, Georgia. It was a huge change for us to go from a small, quiet town to one that was bursting with life and energy. This was beneficial for us, however, for we desperately needed the distraction.
By the time the next school year rolled around I was ready to try again. Deep down I knew my heart would never be the same. My father's death had left a hole that could never be filled. Part of my still lived somewhere in Nebraska under that oak tree next to my father's grave, but the other part of me was here, in Atlanta, and that's what I needed to focus on.
And so, with less confidence than last year, I entered this strange new school, in this strange new state. I could do this. I could make a new start for myself. I had been bent by my father's death, but I was not broken.
Overall, everything was fine, strange and new, yes, but fine. The faintest glimmers of hope were stirring in me when, once again, they were extinguished. Halfway through a class, another expressionless principle led me out to the hallway and spoke in an unfeeling, cold voice. She told me that my mother had been sent to the hospital on account of a heart attack.
After I had tried so hard to build it back up, my world felt as if it were collapsing around me once again. I left school and went directly to the hospital where my mother lay struggling to survive. I would not lose her as well. She could not die. That night I fell asleep in her hospital room; my warm hand resting in her cold one.
And so my first day of a new year at high school was brought to a close with my mother's heart attack.
After a painfully slow week my mother returned home, and in about two months she was fully recovered. During the two months in which she was recovering, I stayed home to assist her wherever needed. In return for my help, she allowed me to stay home from school. She apologized for keeping me away but I didn't mind. I never wanted to return to school.
Those two months turned out to be some of the best of my life. For during those two months I met Daniel.
Daniel lived two house down from us in a small, brown one-story with his mother, father, and two younger sisters.
I was out for a walk one evening when he passed me on his bike. I smiled and said hello, he smiled and said hello back. From then on things just got better. It's truly amazing what can come out of a simple 'hello.'
We would spend the evenings together sitting and talking. Sometimes he would tell me about what he was learning in school. He even began to teach me a few subjects so that when I went back, if I went back, I wouldn't be so far behind. Other times I would tell him about my difficult past and the fears I struggled with. He would never offer me advice or tell me how to improve my life, he would simply wrap an arm around my shoulders and provide me with the comfort I so desperately needed. And still, other times we would simply sit quietly under the stars saying nothing at all.
It felt amazingly good to be loved, and wanted, and respected. As long as Daniel was by my side, I could sit under the night sky and not feel so frightened of the life ahead of me, or of the sorrow behind.
Summer approached and with it, the most beautiful moment of my life. Summer was when I received my first kiss under the crabapple tree in my backyard. The memory of Daniel's stunning blue eyes as they stared piercingly into my soft brown ones will remain forever in that secret corner of my heart.
Summer gave way to Autumn and once again the beginning of the school year crept forward. My mother encouraged me to go back to school, and so did Daniel. But those two dreadful memories still burned resolutely in my mind; on my first day of school two years ago my father had died and on my first day of school last year my mother had fallen victim to a heart attack. What new disaster might befall me this year if I entered school once more.
But Daniel would be there this time and maybe, just maybe, things would be different.
And so, here I stood staring resolutely at the concrete steps in front of me. My mind was in a full-fledged debate on whether to put one foot forward or to simply continue to stand where I was. "Things will be different this year. You'll be fine. You don't have to run." I tried desperately to convince myself.
Suddenly I felt a warm hand on my shoulder. I turned to see the only person in the world who could give me the strength to do what I needed to do; Daniel.
Neither of us spoke; we didn't need to. He understood me perfectly just as I understood him. Slowly he held out his hand and just as slowly I raise mine and placed it in his. We stood there, with our fingers intertwined, for what seemed like an eternity.
And then, my hand joined tightly with his, I took a deep breath and stepped forward.