In English class we have to find the realities of what we write. If we write about a childhood memory, we have to find a deeper meaning, a realization.
I think everything we do, every minute we spend, has its own reality. We don’t think about them, but they’re there.
The library closed so we went downstairs to find a spot. We decided to go to English class to see if Mr. Booz was in his room. It was 4 p.m. and he had left already.
We sat on the stairs instead. As we proof-read our papers, Nur and I laughed about something that happened in Government class. Soon Swati joined us. That day we spent three hours editing, laughing, joking, and acting silly. We were three friends, simply living in the moment. As we walked through the empty hallways towards the main entrance, we couldn’t stop laughing.
A day later I asked Nur jokingly, “So what was the reality of yesterday?”
She looked at me and casually said, “The reality is that we’ve grown to laugh in between finishing assignments and making grades. We’ve learned to take the hard things a little easier. We’ve learned that no matter how stressed we are, no matter how tough it is being a teenager, it’s possible to laugh once in a while, to be wild and crazy.”
Every fact, every story, and every memory can have a meaning if you look deep down. The childhood memories that we rarely think about are full of facts, full of little details. It’s up to us to look for their reality.