Still Hung-Up

I can remember my kindergarten room. Lots of wood. There were really two rooms, one that we spent most of our time in and another, sunnier, room where we got to play. There were records in there, with a clown. I remember them being different.

I can remember playing football in the snow in grade school. I would referee sometimes. I remember running after the rest of the group, waving them back as someone had gone out of bounds. I remember being the center on a goal line stand. I hiked the ball and was immediately smushed into the snow. We scored. I don't remember if we won or not.

I remember the auditorium of my middle school. In the cold weather we'd get to stay in there before school. We'd hang out and talk of all sorts of things. It was still cold in there but not as cold as it was outside.

I remember the old gym in my high school. Dark and foreboding. Struggling to do pull-ups but succeeding. Watching Heather jog and flushing.

That's the sort of thing I'd like to have a Time Machine for; to revisit things I remember and don't.