Open Letters to Sam

In this hallway we sat together...maybe not this exact spot on the floor, but this exact hallway for sure. It’s the hallway of my senior locker. I snapped a pic while I was there for my daughter’s marching band competition last year. I have a memory of sitting on the floor before school with you, up against the rows of lockers. I can remember you talking about Sammy Sosa and how much you hated the word “dude.” Funny the things that stick in the mind...ridiculously random pieces—why do those particular things linger for me? I don’t know. But that’s what I remember.

I was frequently late to school, racking up the 6:30 detentions like crazy because my motivation to wake up and go to school was non-existent. Then I met you. After that, I wanted to get there early enough that I could sit right there, in that hall, with you. You were my motivation. You were my positive influence. I hated school, until I met you. After I met you, I looked forward to it just for the times I got to see you.

Being back in that hallway was surreal. The ghosts of us were there...but it didn’t hurt to be there with them. There was an ache of nostalgia, but it wasn’t the heartbreaking sort. Just one year later and I think it would hurt to go back there now. I see the Naperville Central competition coming up for the marching band and I am afraid to go back. I don’t know if I can see these places again, confront the ghosts of us again, and keep my composure. At the same time, I want to go, because places like that are the only places I can find you...even if it’s just the ghost of you, it’s all I have. But I still find myself wishing for the day when it doesn’t have to be ghosts anymore.