It’s 2001 again.
You wake up before your alarm, not because it rang, but because the house is already alive. The Weather Channel hums through its familiar smooth jazz loop, the same one that’s played every morning all summer. Somewhere down the hall, your mother’s blow dryer roars and fades in steady waves. A thin bar of warm yellow light spills out from beneath the bathroom door.
In the kitchen, silverware clinks against ceramic. A plate gets set down. Water runs, stops, runs again. Your father moves with quiet efficiency, already in work mode, already halfway gone. The smell of coffee hangs, mixed with toast that’s just a little too dark. It’s comforting. Routine. It makes everything feel safe.
You stretch and yawn, overlooked by posters taped to the wall, edges curling from years of humidity. Athletes frozen mid-air forever . Action figures lined up on a shelf, each one a memory of a birthday, a holiday, a wish made before blowing out candles. Your room still smells like summer grass stains. Like late nights. Like freedom that’s about to expire.
Today is different.
Today is the first day of school.
Your outfit is laid out with intention. Shirt chosen weeks ago, saved for this exact moment. Jeans still stiff from the store. Crisp white sneakers, untouched, their soles perfectly clean, waiting to meet the world. You step into them carefully, already aware that by the end of the day they won’t look like this anymore.
By the door sits your backpack. Fresh fabric. No creases. No frayed straps. Inside, notebooks with covers so clean they almost feel sacred. Folders empty and full of possibility. A pristine box of Crayola colored pencils, every color sharp, aligned, unused.
Your chest feels tight, but in a good way.
Excitement buzzes. Anxiety rides shotgun. Your mind races ahead of your body. Will I like my teacher? Who will I sit next to? What’s on the lunch calendar or is there a packed lunch waiting for me? Will my name get called right? Will my crush notice I exist?
You stand there for a moment longer than you need to. Listening. Memorizing the sounds. The light. The feeling of being on the edge of something new.