Daily Prompt: Shake it Up
You’re 12 years old. It’s your birthday. Write for ten minutes on that memory. GO.
The scariest part is, I have none. How is it possible I have no recollection of my 12th birthday? I was heading into 7th grade, at Seth Low Junior High School in Brooklyn. I was on the young side, and was probably (one must guess when one doesn’t remember) nervous about entering a new school. We just left elementary school as 6th graders, the top ladder rung, the leaders, the senior students. Then, in little over a summer, we were back down to the lowest tier.
New school, new teachers, new kids, compartmentalized subjects, movement between classes. But I digress. My birthday. This entire exercise is conjecture because as I mentioned, I don’t remember it. I was hopeful bits and pieces would circulate and return as I began writing. I was hopeful. At the time, birthday parties were small and in our own homes. Those were not the days of Lazer Tag, or Paintball, or make believe Beauty Queens in businesses existing solely for birthday fantasies. They were at home with a cake and perhaps some festive decorations. The celebration was: you. Not who could make the best party, or give the best present, or wear the nicest clothing.
I think I prefer that time.