When I first get into the car to drive to school I am still parked in my garage. Outside of the car is full of memories and my childhood life. There are old softball bags from my little-league days and beach toys from playing in the sandbox growing up. Pulling out of the garage, I see my backyard where I used to spend my days endlessly laughing on the swingset. I would have picnics with my aunt and grandmother and have fights with my sister and our brother-like friends. Continuing up my driveway, I pass the wall in which I used to play tennis against. An old stone wall with cracks in the shape of various countries and small animals. Turning out of the driveway to the left, I go past the evil neighbors bright blue house with black shutters. The type of neighbors to yell at cheerful kids for running across their yard in the hot summer air to retrieve an overthrown ball. After passing their house comes the house I spent every day of my childhood summers with my best friends. Two boys, Matthew and Michael. I grew up with them either playing basketball in the driveway or swimming in the pool.  The wide yellow house with a black 33 on the white mailbox and a sun statue above the garage. Normally there were 3 cars in the driveway one for each adult living in the house. 

Going down the hill off my street, I take a sharp right turn onto yet another memory filled street. After passing a grassy patch, usually filled with ignorant owner’s dog poop, comes my cousin’s old house. The brick walled bottom half of the house always stood out, especially because the upper half was normal looking. The amount of pool parties, Christmas eves, and 4th of July’s spent at that house is uncountable. Still to this day there is a huge plump grey rock. It just sits there waiting for another child to use their imagination to turn it into something else. A rocketship, a horsey, an igloo, and even a hard old blueberry! I used that rock for anything I could possibly think of. Going by that rock, brings another hill. This one steeper than the others, but the best place to ride a bike down on a hot day. Just for the fact that we all knew the wind in our faces would feel better than anything in the world. 

Getting to the top of the hill comes the park and tennis courts. The huge piece of land in that park that is simply just grass and a walking path made for a fun picnic anytime throughout the year. Continuing on that street, I get to a red light with an old brick firehouse in the middle of the road. It has been under construction for about 5 years, and I still haven’t seen a change. After making the left turn around it, I head down a long straight road which usually takes 5 minutes to get to the end. On the right side, there is a rocky layer of ground with a metal fence above, overlooking the train tracks and the middle of Worcester. A few feet after that fence lies some streetlights with yellow sunflowers taped to them, honoring a friend who passed away from a car accident in that very spot. I get goosebumps passing those poles. I miss him. 

Getting to the end of that straight road, there’s a slight right turn onto a little bridge. One day when I was in second grade, (the bridge wasn’t there yet) the whole street was flooded because of the rain. It was scary for me. I was late to school that day because that was the only route we knew of. Going over the bridge, there’s Kenmore Diner and another firehouse. In front of the firehouse lies a statue of a kneeling fireman, to honor a fireman that was killed while being a hero. The outside of the diner is shiny and holographic looking. Inside, they have red leather seats, and when you put your drink on the sparkly table, it shakes because of the movement from the highway above. 

From there, I get onto the highway filled with cars either going above or below the speed limit. The one thing I notice everyday while my mom drives me is the amount of litter on the side of the road. I think about that a lot too, like how it got there and where it will end up. I used to play a game with myself when I saw litter. I would frown when I saw any type of trash on the ground, and for the split second there wasn’t any litter, I would smile. Then immediately go back to frowning. Although the litter never ended, eventually the highway did. That’s when I got to the stoplight by my school. That light was always too frustrating because it seemed that as soon as I got close to it, it would turn red. Making me later than I needed to be. After it finally turned green, I arrived onto Shore Drive, my school’s street. That nicely paved, long street always made me mad too, mainly because of the man directing traffic. I would always get stopped to let others go, once again, making me more late than I needed to be. After finally getting through the officer, I would make it to the schools driveway, full of cars and kids walking towards the building. I can’t forget about the people who use the exit as an entrance and try to get into an accident, just for the sake of cutting someone else in the line. After passing all the memories, all the hills and houses, and rocks and litter, I eventually get to where I need to be. Bancroft School, where I am learning to be the best version of myself. 

Photo by Tom Rumble on Unsplash