a-B-C-D-E-F-Z

When Jane was three years old, her mother took her to school for the first time- a large room in the basement of their town’s only library. It was a bright sunny day, placid and dreamlike, not unlike any other during those formative years. As Jane descended the staircase, she could hear the children running and chasing each other below. Immediately she could feel the pit of her stomach reverberate up and down until it settled in the middle of the throat some place near to where the vocal chords reside. It would become a familiar feeling that she would be faced with constantly when new social situations arose.

It is difficult to remember a time when adults towered over you and spoke in a language that you barely understood, but somehow and sometime we all learned our first words, colors, and shapes that would develop into something resembling intelligent thought. The nice woman teacher asked Jane about these things.

Jane was born at that time of year that made her fall on the cusp of school-aged children. She could either start pre-school now, or a year later. Her parents, of course, wanted to see their only child succeed and her mom towered over her.

“Tell them what that is! What animal is that?!?”

Jane knew the color red, but for some reason could not respond. She knew it was a square, but thought better to tell them.

As quickly as the test had started, it had ended. The nice teacher and Jane’s mom were convening in the hallway. There is no way she could have understood what they said, but she felt bad, very bad.

Jane was ushered back up the stairs and knew that she wouldn’t be back soon, but was thankful not to have to stay there where her personality would blend in with the auburn matted carpeting.

I am a failure, she thought.

For years, this story was a reality lingering in Jane’s head, but there was only one problem: it had never happened! And, today Jane was back and standing near that staircase in Oxford, Massachusetts nearly 20 years later when she realized that she had indeed entered the intended class with her peers. She had never been left behind in any way, but somehow her subconscious mind had forgotten to do the simple math her conscious mind already knew.

It is strange the way space and time changes a place. There were no children and the lighting made everything seems more still. The only noise was the hum of the florescent glow. The whole space had been redone and now housed a growing segment of reference books from the library above. The staircase was inaccessible and had a big red sign indicating “Emergency Only”.

It was right here where Jane learned to tie her shoes for the first time. Somewhere along the way, she also learned to foster these overwhelming feelings of awkwardness, but neither the walls, nor the carpet seemed to harbor a recollection of any encounter. Where did the memories reside, if not even in her own mind?

That night, coverage of the damage caused by a hurricane was on the news. Several days had elapsed since all the residents had been evacuated and the storm had passed. The local homeowners were being allowed back in and were getting the first glimpse of their submerged properties. One man near hysterics claimed to live in one of the homes for nearly 30 years and said the community was ‘unrecognizable’. No one even could find where half of the homes had gone and some of them had just picked up and moved down the block. When the reporter asked if he would rebuild, he spoke a resounding ‘Yes, of course’.

Jane sighed and knew what she had to do. She picked up the phone and called John.

“Hi.”

“Hi”, he sniffled.

“I’m………… I’m sorry.” She said. “I’m coming home……… tomorrow.”