I can remember my first day of Kindergarten. I’m seeing the walk over in my head right now. I had no idea what was going on or where we were going but eventually we arrived at a building. I remember two giants at the opening of the door, welcoming me in with a warm embrace that made me feel safe but a little confused.
I was used to giant people interacting mostly with each other, only acknowledging me briefly. Being the centre of attention wasn’t something that happened on these trips out into the world, so this felt off. But the shower of protection I felt from my own giant, the tall powerful guardian always watching over me, made me brave and eager to explore.
The first hurdle I had to overcome was the colossal front step. I shot my foot up as high as possible to clear it but my efforts were unnecessary as I began to levitate: my mom was pulling me up by my arm.
When I got in I was in awe. I felt like I was inside an indoor playground. I was overwhelmed by the amount of things to play with. Eventually the indoor sand box consumed me, So much so that it was difficult for my mom to get my attention when she was ready to leave. When she finally did she gave me a hug, said bye, and began to move to the door. I went over to leave with her, and then she explained to me that I was staying here, which terrified me so much I began to cry. My mom and one of the ladies tried to calm me down. I worked myself up so much that I fell asleep shortly after. When I woke up my mom had left and I imagined that she was somewhere far away beyond the giant step.
Years later, in my late teens, I went back to that building, St Gerard Majella Catholic School. I wanted to see the colossal step another time. When I got there I was surprised beyond belief. The colossal step I had remember so vividly was actually tiny, even shorter than the steps of regular stairs.