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center for writing | minnesota writing project | mwp invitational summer institute | institute fellows 2012 | rebekah lund

Rebekah Lund

©2012

Porcelain

The Ming Vase
Sat there
Like a dream
Waiting for flowers to fill it

This heartland
Minnesota
Its early fall days
Crisp with frost
Ethereal beauty
Fills them

She gathers the last true blossoms
To fill her heirloom vase

The last before winter comes
Porcelain and white

 

First Day at Riverview High

Today is my first day at my new school. I, along with my counselor, decided that starting at a new school this fall would be the best way for me to wipe out the old, and start with a clean slate. So, I’m strolling at a leisurely pace, as I’m in no rush to encounter all of the glances, stares, and questions that accompany being a new kid in a big school. Especially when I don’t have the answers to all the questions. Where are you from? Uh, I don’t know, I guess…. What do you mean you don’t know? Who are your parents?

I’ve decided to wear neutral colors today. Blue jeans with a slightly fitted purple knit top. Nothing too dark or tight. Just easy, go with the flow, Stella. Not dark, brooding Stella. You need to look at life with a fresh perspective. Not everyone will leave you, or hurt you. Life doesn’t always have to suck, Lucy always tells me. Lucy, who even herself, just left me to deliver her very-much-due baby girl. Six weeks she’ll be gone. Right when I’m going through the biggest change in my recent, guardian-less life.

Okay. Breathe in. Breathe out. Riverview High. The place where I’ll spend most of my waking hours for the next three years. The Riverview Ravens. Not bad for a mascot. More majestic than the Ducks at my last school. You know, school mascots are an interesting concept. Like we always have to label, label, label. And the rivalries they create, don’t even get me started there. But again, I digress.

As I opened the door at the top of the antique marble steps, a quirky-looking red-head approached me.

“Hi!” She said in an annoyingly excited tone.

“Hi,” I replied, much less enthusiastically.

“Isn’t the first day of school filled with so much possibility?”

“Uh, yeah, you could say that.”

“I’m Rose,” she said as she fumbled her notebooks to her other arm and shook my hand.

“I’m Stella.”

“It’s nice to meet you.”

“You too.”

“Well, gotta go! See you around.” She bopped off happily down the hallway. I, on the other hand, did not bop off anywhere. I stayed in the large entry area of my new school, trying to use my newly acquired self-regulation techniques that Lucy taught me before she left me.

Well that’s done. My first official introduction. And not even any awkward questions or silences. As I made my way down the long hallway, I found Room 105, my first class. English. Yeah. Parts of Speech and Literature. I can barely contain myself. Let’s see, where should I sit? By the window, in the back looks good to me.

Just as I found my spot, the typical 40-year-old lady teacher entered the room. She wore a simple, black pencil skirt, a tucked-in silk blouse, and a pearl necklace. Yeah, I’ve seen her kind before. Well, at least I know what to expect. 

“Good morning class, I’m glad you’re all here. Welcome to English 10. My name is Mrs. Mullaby,” she said in a firm, but friendly tone. “The first thing I’d like you to do is take out a piece of paper and write down all the things you’ve ever wondered about. People. Places. Feelings. Things. Anything. Nothing is off limits. Take the first part of the hour and then we’ll share.”

Gulp. Share. In school. Great. Maybe I’m not so sure what to expect.