All week she’s studied every possible subject, trying to remember everything and anything she has learned- algebra, grammar, Latin roots, phrases she has memorized— and knows she will need. But Saturday afternoon finally comes— No.2 pencils lined up in a perfect row across her desk, equations recited over in her head. The test begins, and she hears the immediate scratching of newly sharpened pencils all around her, erasers scrubbing. Her palms sweat. She looks up and sees all heads down, begins to doubt her ability, glances up at the clock, wonders if there is enough time for her to finish. Outside there is a little squirrel, hurrying to beat the morning showers. She feels drawn towards that working squirrel, his long gray tail camouflaging with the dreary sky, his scurrying paws and feet digging into the dirt like a shovel, his furry torso rubbing against the old oak tree with the long branches. like him, she too feels that she is hurrying rushing her life without even stopping to realize all the things worth seeing. Even if her life is going too fast too soon, she knows that it can only get better: college, graduate school, internships becoming more responsible and mature. She looks back down at her paper, and smiles because now she understands how much this moment, right now, can affect the rest of her life and she isn’t so scared anymore.
