Recently I returned to the place where I attended elementary school.  The building is no longer used as a school.  The swings, monkey bars, jungle gym, and superfast merry-g0-round are all gone, so it looks somewhat abandoned and sparse; and of course, as many places we remember from childhood, it seems much smaller than I remember it being.

Part of me had a sort of sad lonely feeling when I saw my old school looking this way, but another part of me was overwhelmed with good old school days memories.

First days of school when I rushed off the bus to find my name listed on the class rosters scotch taped to the door.
Remembering to wear shorts under my skirts so that I could hang upside down on the monkey bars.
Closing my eyes so that I was brave enough to ride that superfast merry-go-round even when the big kids pushed it faster than fast.
Running out the recess door the split second the bell rang so that I could get a swing next to my cousin.

Funny how the memories are both vivid and hazy, sort of like trying to remember the dream I had last night – the one that was so real, yet so hard to explain when I try to tell someone about it.

As an author of children’s books I rely on my memories quite often.  In my mind, I revisit places like my old elementary school to remember what things were like because even though my readers are growing up in a much different world, there is something very universal about those school days memories.  I love having a job in which reminiscing about my childhood memories is a requirement.  For me, it’s just one of the reason I find writing middle grade books so rewarding.

Happy Reading,

Nancy