Not all who wander are lost.

      During classes I like to ask to go to the restroom, whether I have to relieve or not. I'd stroll to where ever my feet take me. Usually I do go to the restroom but mostly just to read the stall walls and look at the doodles and what not. When I walk out the stall I may go towards the sink and stop to look at myself. That's all. Just look. I guess I critique myself on my flat hair, on 'why in the world I wore this outft', the fat hanging off the sides. I'd take of my Lacoste glasses and squint really hard at myself, getting closer and closer to the mirror. Up down up down. Funny faces. More squints. A few minutes I hear footsteps and slide them back on my face. The young girl walked in and we exchange smiles. I walk away.

      In the all my mind starts to wander just as I do. I wish to be the only one in the huge halls but at the same time hope to see a familiar face. No words needs to be exchanged, just a smile. That's all I ask. As I continue to make my way across, what feels like miles and miles of nothing, I stop and squeak floor boards, read comics and letters on peers' lockers, even look closely at the pictures of the school in various places; the gym (that can only hold a handful), hallways, classrooms, etc.I think about what the school was like 50 years ago, what Nashville was like, what will I be like 50 years from now. I walk over to the blue recycling bins used to catch the dripping. There's dripping everywhere. It won't stop raining. I believe that's the reason why the ancient hardwood floors creak and rise. Or the face that it's so old. I lean my head over and watch the dripping, the ripples, my reflection. Nothing more. People pass and I get closer to the wall, away from the blue recycling buckets full of life.

      I become parallel with the windowsill and Coke machine that only sells diet drinks, which is fine with me since I don't even drink such things as soda. I sit on the sill and look at the clouds. That's all. Just look. It takes me awhile to snap back to reality and realize I've been gone for nearly 10 minutes. I rush past the lockers and blue tubs as my five dollar Steve Maddens' from Goodwill click with every step and my Kathy Van Zeeland Bag jingles like windchimes creating a rhythmic melody. I quickly smooth out my flat hair and fix myself before reaching the door. I stop. Take a deep breath. And walk in.