Maya Sneider

My friends and I in line to get our pictures taken on our first day of senior year.

For 11 years, I was the spectator.

I sat and watched from the sidelines, watching them all go through it. I didn’t know most of their names, but I envied them. I wanted to be them.

I wanted to go to the dances. I wanted to walk in the parades. I wanted to go on the day-long trip to a camp in the middle of the state. I wanted to be in the assemblies. I wanted to be the oldest and have little kids looking at me with wide, curious eyes. I wanted to walk across a stage with all of my elementary school friends and accept the diploma we had been dreaming of.

From the perspective of the first-grade version of myself, I yearned for hours to pass by as minutes and for minutes to pass as seconds. I yearned for the label of a “big kid” rather than being looked down on and told I was not old enough yet to have these experiences. 

In third and fourth grade, my friend and I would race to the swings during our first recess and play a game we called “When We Grow Up.” We would chat on the swings and play make-believe as adults; I lived in Paris, and she lived in Alaska; there was a giant tunnel that went between our houses for easy access. We talked about our future jobs, our future spouses, our future pets, and our future children. 

We stretched out our tiny hands to grasp just a small piece of the freedom we would one day have beyond the swing set.

Things are different now, though.

I have gone to the dances, and I have four more left. I have walked in the parades with my last one just a mere few weeks away. I went on the day-long trip to a camp in the middle of Michigan, sang my heart out with my friends, and stood in line for a swing I didn’t even ride. I have danced in the assemblies, and the number of performances I have left is quickly dwindling. I am one of the oldest now, and kids look at me with wide, curious eyes, hoping to one day fill my shoes.

However, I still have yet to share the stage with people I have known since kindergarten and receive the diploma I have been working towards the past 12 years.

Oh, how I wish the seconds passed as minutes and the minutes passed as hours.

Oh, how I wish I could grab time by the collar and scold it for moving too quickly. 

I am no longer the spectator. I am living through every fleeting moment, and I feel myself slipping away with time. People keep telling me that this is just the beginning, but every second that floats away brings me closer to the end.

Please, just let me stand still.