One Last Time
By Alexis Neely
As a senior, I'm reminded that every day, and every day I stop to pick up those heartfelt memories. I laughed walking down the quiet hallway at the sight of an aggravated looking memory as her dad explained the 180° slide.
Walking through the doors to the band room, I saw one who seemed lost--wondering how she got talked into winter drumline when she had absolutely no rhythm.
Heading back to the dirty practice rooms--each filled with a different memory of Ian the tan boy she never truly bonded with, Amber the section leader who intimidated with knowledge, Sarah the upperclassman who taught her important life lessons, Skylar the friend who managed to make the troubling day camps fun again, Paige the right-hand man...or girl actually, Maddie the master of the one-liners, Laney the Genius, Ouna the space nerd, and James the firecracker who challenged me to become a better leader--looking through the practice rooms I smiled and shook my head. The horn section never really did anything during sectionals.
I found one in the middle of the band room having the time of her life doing the Cupid Shuffle. Beside that memory sat the memory of a frustrated rookie being talked through how to play the French Horn, and across from her sat the first chair horn practicing for a surprise solo. I winced at the one eating a Ghost Pepper to prove how tough she was, and my heart broke for the ones mumbling incoherent words while hard tears shook their bodies. I reached out beckoning them to the percussion room to remember their first time trying on uniforms with their ecstatic best friend.
As I opened the back door, I helped one limp to the car for x-rays after she was injured. As she drove away, I watched one march back--struggling to master the mellophone spin.
When I sit in the bleachers, I see the one dancing to cadence and cheering on her brother. Looking down at the field, I see the nervous freshman who wanted to quit after she fell down during her first marching performance. All over the stadium, I see her walking with different people--her group of friends always changing and expanding.
As I traveled in the blistering heat to the practice field, I saw my remaining memories--some sad, most happy. I watched as my memories ran wild with those of my fellow seniors. I finally called for them to follow me along with the other memories to a new home, but one simply refused.
It was the most important memory: Being a section leader. It was the one thing I feared more than anything--it had grown too attached to leave. I called once more, but it simply smiled a peaceful smile and waved goodbye. I knew at that point I was just going to have to settle with the fact that part of my soul will always be with the Station Camp Thunder Herd.
It was the most important memory: Being a section leader. It was the one thing I feared more than anything--it had grown too attached to leave. I called once more, but it simply smiled a peaceful smile and waved goodbye. I knew at that point I was just going to have to settle with the fact that part of my soul will always be with the Station Camp Thunder Herd.
