We took a whole Devonshire Street School picture that spring of ’82. The school was closing due to low enrollment and the first grade class lined up. We had Mrs. Butterbaugh the first semester with her pictures of ‘ph’ (phone) and ‘sh’ (shoe) and ‘ng’ (can’t remember) words around the room; and Mrs. Tate the second semester with no pictures.
We walked out to the big kids’ playground where all the students except for the kindergarteners were. Sixth grade in back. We lined up in front and I was the smallest first grader there. We looked up and squinted in the sun and watched the photographer complete my first memory of spring.
The late May snow gave Zach and me a last chance to shovel our driveway. We had to hurry to get it shoveled before it melted. Anna growled, wanting to come with, but we decided you had to be at least one-year-old to shovel snow.
The 18-hour-a-day sun returned to green the grass and call the moose. We barbecued burgers and traded our sleds for bikes as my third favorite season began.
The boy, who a year ago could neither walk nor climb the stairs, has been joined by his sister. Baths and grass eating are far more frequent now.
And Zach loves the double-long stroller.
You can’t see me squinting in the black and white panoramic photo of the last Devonshire Street School class. The sun reflected off of my glasses. I started Topeka Drive the next fall. But it’s that spring I remember. And that photo that I had one copy of. I spilled soda on it about 20 years ago.