Everything is New Again

~Based off of a true story~

Well, here we are again. The start of another school year. For most students, it's nothing special. Sure, it's a time to buy new school supplies, maybe add a few items to your wardrobe... but in the grand scheme of things, to them, it's just another year. They'll probably be going to the same school, meeting up with the same old friends, revisiting some of their old classrooms before they go to their new ones... standard stuff. They've been doing this for years, and this one is no different. Just the latest rotation of the Earth around the Sun. But for me... everything is new. Again.

New place, new house, new cars, new faces, new voices, new school, new expectations, new fears... but it's the same old process. Ironically, the only constant thing in my life is my ever changing circumstances.

I'm standing at the bus stop, nervous butterflies doing an intricate dance in my stomach. I clutch at the straps of my backpack, and try to seem outwardly relaxed. ...It's a losing battle, unfortunately. If my teeth were clenched any harder, I'd probably have to walk through those infamous double doors with a few molars missing.

I sigh, and try to distract myself. I glance around at my new neighborhood, taking in the swaying of the trees and the near identical appearance of the houses. All of them are two stories, painted an off-white color, and have lawns that are starting to die off from the cold that's slowly creeping its way into the air. They all look the same, like someone took a cookie cutter and put it to work on siding and wood. Back in Germany, I would never have seen something like this. There, everything seems so... chaotic? Is that a good word to describe it? Well, maybe a better descriptor is charmingly haphazard.

I used to live on the economy (military speak for off-base), and conventional American "neighborhoods" didn't really exist. Instead, housing was organized into several little "villages." They were like tiny little urban centers, even though they were away from the city—the houses were wall to wall, and of all different shapes, colors, and sizes. There could be one house jutting out three feet into the sidewalk, and then another a few feet back, all on a hill with bumper-to-bumper parking. School houses would be on the same street as conventional dwellings, and you could always find a bakery on the corner. Oh, how I miss that bakery. The smell of freshly baked bread as I walked to my bus stop, the babble of German as people passed me by...

Here, the only thing you smell is freshly cut grass, and the only consistent sound is of the birds in the trees. I suppose it has its own charm... but it's just so different that I find my ears straining to catch the guttural speech that I'd grown accustomed to. I can speak a limited amount of German. I took it in school specifically for the purpose of navigating in Germany, and even though I no longer need to do such a thing, I still find myself continuing the trend. Why not? I need three language credits to graduate. I might as well. ...Even if there's barely anyone taking the class, and it's so unpopular that German three and four have been combined.

It's my first day of school, I remind myself. I should be happy about it, right? Come on, think positive. Think of all the friends you'll meet! And your teachers seemed nice enough during orientation—you'll do fine.

I sigh, and shuffle my feet. I'm trying hard to be optimistic... but between having to wake up at 5:30 this morning, and the threat of looming introductions... I'm have a hard time thinking positive. I hate meeting new people, especially when I'm the new one. Being a military kid, I'm supposed to be used to this kind of thing. I'm supposed to be adaptable, and suck up the painful awkwardness that comes from trying to forcefully assert myself into a close-knit group of people. I mean... just think about it. All of these people already have friends, already have established groups, teams, connections... they have no reason to include me. And, because they have no need for me, any attempt that I could make to enter their circle would seem forceful. And I hate being forceful—impressing myself on others. It just makes everything seem so... superficial. Like they're accepting me just to "do the right thing," and make the new kid feel comfortable.