I know that I've been neglecting you, but I can't imagine that at this point you weren't expecting it.  If this were a marriage, I'd be the one not even showing up for counseling.  Let me know when I need to sign the papers.

School started today.  I am no longer a slumping sophomore, but a junior, and I can't say that I'm really any less intimidated than usual.  I am in an english class with a dozen bitter seniors.  I am in a creative writing class in which I will be reading nearly 2000 pages before Christmas.

And all this intimidation aside, I am ridiculously excited.  I can only hope that my sarcasm and cynicism can be shoved far enough aside to allow my bubbly, optimistic, over-achieving side some room.  This year feels as though it has enough accumulation backing it up that everything should run smoothly --

the lunchroom as familiar as my own breakfast table, my friends' shoulders and laps the most comfortable furniture in the world, and the hallways between classes like well-rehearsed battle scenes in epic war movies.

And I suppose I can attribute some of this excitement to my first-day-of-school ritual of predicting change, growth, and happiness with an unrealistic vigor (and of course, coming here to sap to you about it).  And also to the disgustingly happy music that comes with the end of a good mix CD.

I think really it's that point between the end of my ideal thoughts about summer and all of my hopes and expectations for the school year.  Between driving at dusk with the windows down (a good piece of conversation between you and the passenger seat), and all of the people you're longing to obsess over during an important lecture -- all of those moments saturated in the very highschoolness of your life, complete with a soundtrack of locker doors slamming and bells ringing.  

They are two places that cannot coexist but for a few moments on the first day of school, when they are both within reach.  You can hold on to each at its respective end with outstretched arms and not find yourself too uncomfortable.

And so here I am, I guess, among all my fresh school supplies, trying to serenade a muggy summer evening one last time:

The playgrounds, the arcades, the improv games.   The bonfires, drum circles, city lights, swimming pools and fooseball tables.   The restaurants, the movies, the freezipops.  The all-encompassing "never-have-I-ever"s at an all-girls sleepover, funnelcake boy, "spin the cellphone," and the sickening sense of community that exists on all-girls campuses.  

The best summer yet.

May all of your school years begin with the end of summer still in reach.