I sat there the last day of school and watched the sky catch fire. I stayed curled up in a ball as the wind whipped my long hair around my face. I imagined gathering up all the memories in my mind and throwing them into the sky, laughing with delight as I watched them burn. But no such thing was happening as I sat there and said goodbye to my 8th grade year. The memories were only flowing down my cheeks in the form of small, silver tears.

I remember one year ago, the exact same day. I was swinging on the tire swing diagonal from me. I was listening to the moans of the river and the whispers of the wind. I remembered laughing with my heart as my eyes sparkled with the anticipation of summer. But this year, no such thing would happen. The wind only whispered the things I was longing to forget. And the moans of the river were only the cries of helplessness.

As the fire was doused in the sky and the dark blue night began to creep upon me, I could hear the chirping of crickets in the background. The river seemed to calm itself as it prepared for the night. The wind only whistled through the trees now. It seemed as if they were finally satisfied that they had broken me. It was as if they were proud of what they had done. But what had they done? Made me relive my memories…make my nightmares come to life? No, no. They had only made me remember what I wished would disappear.

I pulled my knees closer to my body and rested my head on my knees. A déjà vu floated into my mind. Hadn't I spent the last 180 days in this position as I curled up by my locker on the 2nd story hall? At that moment, the wind kicked up and rustled the leaves and the thick grasses. It echoed through the fields like laughter. The river gurgled quietly, just like whispers. The laughter, the whispers, and the fallen position…the story of my 8th grade year.

I looked up into the dark night sky and watched the stars appear. Some of them twinkled back and forth, as if a conversation was going on in the heavens. The falling stars were the ballerinas of the skies. All was peaceful and calm in the skies. Quiet. There was no wind or worry up there. It was almost as if everything wasn't really there. Maybe they're physical selves were in the sky….but was their mind "in the clouds", or on the ground?

The memories of that year came back in flashes. One certain thing could make me relive the darkest moments of that year. The quack of a duck reminded me of the squeaky shoes in the halls. A rusty swing swaying in the wind represented a ticking of a clock. And yet, I could find some noises that resembled happy moments. A horse's neigh was like the final bell. The sprinklers spraying the night were like the beat-boxers in my home room.

So for many, many hours, I stayed there and listened to the sounds of the night and remembered everything from that year. From the moment of my closing locker, to the yell of "Time Out" everything from that year poured out into the darkness and peacefulness of the night.

When the night grew old, and the sounds became still, everything from that year was lying on the dirt beneath me. Every bad memory was beneath my feet. Oh how I would have loved to stamp my feet on them and smothered them into the dirt. But would they have just crawled up my legs and found themselves into my mind again? I would have loved to pick them up and carry them to drown the memories in the river, but would they have floated to the top again? Not knowing what to do with them, I sat and waited.

The bright orange was peeking over the bowl and beginning to light the world. But somewhere in the far off distance, the rumbling of thunder could be heard. As if millions of horses were stomping closer to me, the storm moved in closer. It was almost near the end.

As I curled myself under the tree and left the memories beneath me, the heavens opened up. The rain came down in heavy, cold pellets and washed the Earth clean. As the rain came down and splashed, it carried all my memories away. As they slowly ran down the hillside and collected in a puddle, everything was washed away.

The only left to do…was to wash away myself. I ran out into the rain, hands out and head up to the sky. I let the stinging bullets pierce my skin. I let the rain soak my hair and drench my dress. I let my converse shoes fill with mud and I let my skin turn to ice. Because when it was done, I was a new person. The rain had washed the old me away, the clouds lifted, and I finally found myself again.