When I was little, I used to get an itch to go back to school. I would practice putting on my new outfit. Pack and unpack my school supplies, carefully labeled with my name in progressively improved penmanship. Sharpen my pencils, and clean out my desk in preparation for all the homework I imagined I would complete there but, inevitably, sat on my bed completing.
When I was older, I would polish my nails, practice my makeup and hair, and clean out my closet, arranging my clothes into outfits. I would spend just one more day in the sun, bleaching my curly hair with lemons then rubbing them across my cheeks to get rid of the freckles.
So I found a job where, every year, there is a first day of school. I can rearrange my closet, get a mani-pedi, and pack my bookbag. The fall semester starts next week, and I can’t wait.