by November East

Created on: June 03, 2008

"Fuller Talks"

I did most of my growing up at Fuller Elementary school - not between the ages of K' though five, but the times after that when I returned to the school for a visit and did some serious thinking.

Ever since I've moved on from the days of paper-mache, learning the ABC's and memorizing state capitols, somewhere along the line life seemed to get a little more difficult than the rainbow bubble of perfection Fuller had created for me.

High school was a difficult time for me, as it probably was for most people trying to figure out college plans, attending the Prom, my first car, boys, girls...the list goes on.

My parents divorced when I was young and I was always caught up in one of their arguments. "Michelle, make sure to get that check from your dad and give it to me next week." I hated being in the middle of their disagreements.

My best friend at the time, a boy a year older than me, lived in the same neighborhood. He name was Pat- a drummer with a kind heart and a goofy spirit.

His mom was always the one to get on his case. We had that in common. She is one of those moms that always needs to know the "who, what, where, when's and why's" when it comes to her precious little boy.

The two were polar opposites Pat was the outgoing punk-rocker with black fingernail polish and a Mohawk and she was Mrs. Brady, apron and all. When I was sick of being put in the middle, and Pat ridiculed for playing his music too loud, we joined forces.

Fuller school was about a two minute walk from the both of our houses; whenever we needed to "get away from it all" we met at the school for its utter convenience. Later I realized it's real purpose.

Something about being there seemed nostalgic. Weather it was walking across the faded letters on the pavement where each grade would line up to go inside, or meandering through the small patch of trees on the field that folded over just so. The place always seemed to put us at ease. Being there reminded us of a time when nothing mattered except being picked first for the kick ball team in gym.

Usually these trip would occur under the moonlight under the glow of the week yellowed street lamps relaxing on a tire swing divulging secrets, feelings, on our sacred ground that will always be just that.

After we both graduated and went our separate ways for college we met up during breaks at home to have our "Fuller talks." Usually the both of us would have to cram an entire semester into one conversation, which we realized was a very difficult tasks, but we did our best.

It's been awhile since my last Fuller talk, but I still visit the playground, and the neighborhood from time to time alone to remind myself of a much simpler time. It has and always will be my sacred place of Zen, I guess you could say, whenever I need to catch a break from the stresses of reality.

Learn more about this author, November East.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.