New School, New Friends

Daily writing prompt
Tell us about your first day at something — school, work, as a parent, etc.

I was shaking on my first day of sixth grade. We’d recently moved from a larger city to a small, unincorporated area in the mountains, with a school that spanned kindergarten to eighth grade. I knew no one at the new school.

Unlike most of the junior highs at that time, sixth-eighth grade were together. Not in the classroom, there were enough of us to have separate classroom for each grade, but we shared everything from lunch times to teachers, rotating classrooms for each subject. Common enough now, but certainly not then. I was particularly frightened of the eighth-graders. What if they beat me up?

I didn’t know what to wear to fit in. Until recently, girls had been required to wear dresses to school. Now we could wear jeans, much more suitable for the mountain area. To be honest, I don’t remember what I wore, I just remember agonizing over it. I’m not even sure I had jeans at that point. My mom had made all my clothes, including my pants. I’m quite sure I didn’t wear homemade pants on my first day of school.

My mom didn’t make me take the bus that first day, something for which I was very grateful. She drove me to school and together we found the playground, where kids hung out before school started. After she left, I pressed up against the brick building and hung my head.

Much to my shock, two girls approached me. “Are you new?” one of them asked in a welcoming manner. I nodded my head yes. “What grade are you in?” When I told them sixth grade, they gleefully said, “We are, too!” Since there was only one sixth grade class that year, we would be together. They proceeded to show me around the playground, giving me vital information such as where the bathrooms were.

Those two girls, Sue and Lisa, would remain my friends through high school. After that we drifted apart, and I’ve kept up with very few of my high school friends, so I don’t know where they ended up or how their lives are today. I hope things are good for them. Sue’s mom died in a plane crash shortly before seventh grade, and her dad remarried not long after. I suspect now that things were difficult for her through all those years, but I didn’t know enough to lend my support. I feel bad about that now.

Sixth, seventh, eighth grade. High school. Tough ages for all of us. But I had friends, and that made all the difference.

Image Credits: School Children (header)–© stock.adobe.com, Jeans © GOOKKIK–stock.adobe.com, Happy Kids Jumping © Bigstock Photos

Checkin’ It Out

I (finally) assembled the kitties new scratching post, with a little help from a friend. Walter and Mimi weren’t clear on what it is right away. The circled it, sniffed it, and walked away. Fortunately, by the next day they were both scratching on it. Alas, a little late to save my wicker chairs. You might notice the top of the post–the picture in the instructions showed a wider berth, wide enough for a cat to sit on. Clearly what we have is too small for that. But overall we’re happy!

Perfect, Mama!

Image Credits: Cesar Cat © Belinda O; Paws in Heart © Bigstock Photos; Cat at Scratching Post (illustration) © Nata–stock.adobe.com

A Simple Gesture

Today something happened that stopped me in my tracks. I was waiting for my pharmacy to open, and noticed that the pharmacy tech had reached for a prescription right before opening the window. Turns out it was my prescription. He knew who I was.

Now, maybe I shouldn’t be surprised. I’ve been going to that pharmacy for several years and this particular tech had helped me numerous times. But I don’t have that many prescriptions, so it’s not like I’m there every week.

I guess I always feel anonymous. Why should anyone remember me? In this case, I typically go to the pharmacy, give them my name and date of birth, and they give me the prescription. It’s a brief transaction and there’s never been anything memorable about it, like having to call the doctor’s office or me getting upset because something went wrong (nothing ever goes wrong, and I wouldn’t get upset if it did).

So I don’t expect to be remembered. But it’s things like this simple gesture that keep me going back. Simple human kindness. I doubt the young man helping me had any idea how good it made me feel that he remembered me. In fact, he’d probably be surprised that I was surprised.

It makes me more keenly aware of what a difference a simple smile or common courtesy when you’re shopping can make. People like to be respected. In our day-to-day lives, how often do we go out of our way to make those we see all the time feel special?

There’s a woman at work who says things like, “Belinda knows what she’s doing” or “you can count on Belinda” and that always makes me feel so good. I try to remember to do the same for others, but I don’t think I’m as good about it as she is.

As the old commercial jingle goes, “life’s simple pleasures are the best.” Let’s give out a few simple pleasures this week.

Hello!

Image Credits: Hello (header) © Nadya Ustuzhantceva; Hello (cat) © ciaoaleandro; both, stock.adobe.com

Walter Likes American Football

Okay, the picture is kind of crooked, sorry about that! Walter was watching the pre-game stuff so intently I thought I might be able to get a picture of him watching the actual game, but he only sat still through the national anthem. After that he’d move every time I picked up my phone to take a picture. But he was watching football, honest! I’m sure he was rooting for the Chiefs, who lost to Dallas the day I took this picture.

Image Credits: Cesar Cat © Belinda O; Paws in Heart © Bigstock Photos, Cats Playing American Football © Hasan–stock.adobe.com

Walter and His Blankie

My friend Deb has also been a good friend to my cats. In fact, most of their current toys came from her. A few years ago she gave me this “cat quilt,” which, as you might guess, is a quilt with cats on it. I put it on the back of my wicker chair, where Walter pulls it down and either hides under it (which is really cute, but I can never get a picture) or sleeps on top of it. Here he is doing the latter. Okay, he woke up when I approached with the camera, but i promise you, he had been sleeping on his blankie.

You can also see that, despite having actual scratching posts, the cats love to tear up my wicker chairs. Oh well. That’s the price you pay, I guess, for having cats.

Image Credits: Cesar Cat © Belinda O; Paws in Heart © BigStock Photos; Quilted Cat © Creative–stock.adobe.com