The color yellow can symbolize much. The sun, dandelions, the smiley face, anxiety. All of these were present, except for the latter.

As the color yellow drove up to my stop I can't remember feeling anxious at all. Excited more than anything.

“Are you nervous?” “

No, Mom,” I said defiantly.

“It's not going to be what you think it is!” my elder brother chided. I gave him the look. Being a fourth grader DD may think he knows it all, but he really doesn't.

I looked down at the laminated, deep red paper hanging by a flimsy string around my neck. All the first graders had already compared colors. I was the only one with red.

“You'll be fine, Mego,” my step-dad said. He had taken the day off from work just to see me off. He never takes a day off. I just smiled.

When the yellow stopped ferociously- ready to swallow up its new group- I was ready. The first one to step on, I suddenly felt a wave of nerves. All in front of me were kids ranging from six to ten, watching me. Where do I go? (There was an unwritten rule that fifth graders rule the back of the bus- the closest to feeling like one is on a roller coaster- whereas the younger grades are shoved in the front. Almost like segregation.)

I chose a seat close to the bus driver, who was also my neighbor. One of my friends sat next to me in an introverted way. My brother waltzed to the back, but not completely. He was still a year off from being King.

I was lost in thought. What will it be like? I've been to my school before, but I've never been there. The yellow buzzed down the road, eating new kids as it went. Whether it consumed them in happiness or anxiety was their choice, and I was determined to be eaten in cheer. After all, no one has ever died on their first day of school. At least, not that I can remember.

It was a quick trip, but that first time it felt longer. I memorized the sites. Traffic whizzing by, trying to be the first to cross the border. We weren't in a hurry. Stop after stop more timid kids hobbled onto the bus, until finally we were twisting and turning on the bucolic road to education. A road that we'd travel for the next twelve years of our lives.

We came to a stop. I gazed out the window to my right: East Derry Memorial Elementary School. I looked down at my red card, and perambulated down the steps and through the front door. I knew where to go. Looking forward, I know I still will.

***

The color green can symbolize much. Frogs, grass, the sick face, calmness. None of these are really present, except for the latter. As the color green increases in my sight, I feel calm. Excited more than anything. Am I ready? I reflect on what mom asked me this morning. Yes. It's not going to end how I think it will.

I think of my Dave's graduation. Being my older brother he still may think he knows it all, but he really doesn't. I look down at the key in my hand. All of us had already compared shapes and sizes. I am the only one with VW. I'll be fine. My step-dad has to work, but it's alright; he knows I can manage.

I smile, and look up. The green is fully before me, ready to take me on my way for the last time. I open the door. No need to fret where to go, I am in control. The teddies are beside me in an extroverted way. My brother is absent, and is still waiting to be King.

I sit down, lost in thought of the oncoming chapter, three months away. What will it be like? I've been to my college before, but I've never been there. The green roars to life and buzzes up the road, eating my thoughts and emotions as it goes. Whether it buzzes cheerfully or anxiously is my choice. No one has ever been flooded on their last day of school. At least, not that I can remember.

It is a quick trip, but this last time feels longer. I have memorized the sites. A few cars lull by, not in a rush to be anywhere.

I'm in a hurry. I have always been. New road. I'm finally twisting and turning on the bucolic stretch of education. A road I have traveled for the past eleven years of my life. A road that will end today. A road that will be different, but similar in the fall.

I come to a stop. I gaze out the window to my left: Profile School. I look down at my key, and step out, perambulating down the walk and through the front door. I have known where to go. Looking forward, I know I still will.