Gotham Writers' Workshop Assignment #1: Memoir

Each week, I'll be posting my latest writing assignment from the Nonfiction 101 class I'm currently taking at the GWW in NYC.
Feel free to comment; I value any and all reader feedback.

Prompt: Make a short list of three big realizations you’ve had in your life. Pick one and write 500 words about the event or events that led to that realization. Stretch your memory, draw out the telling details, and keep in mind the natural arc of a narrative (beginning, middle, end).

Have at it, and good writing to you.

I was five years old when I met Gina in Miss Jones's kindergarten class. We used to sit next to each other at lunch, picking the crusts off of our turkey sandwiches together. Gina could never seem to stay in her seat in class. Each time she had to use the girls' room, throw out a raggedy tissue, or claim the best easel for Art Time, she had to pass my desk on the way. And every so often, Gina would sneak up behind me and plant a tiny kiss on my cheek, breaking out into a fit of giggles before darting away quickly. I would wince and rub it off, shrieking "eww" in front of my tablemates. Why, then, did I look forward to it every day? Gina's family moved at the end of that school year. I don't remember her last name.

* * *

As I entered middle school, pool parties were all the rage if you were lucky enough to have a summer birthday. Getting invited to one felt like winning the golden ticket to a land of inflatable pool toys, infinite piles of cheeseburgers, and do-or-die chickenfights in the pool. But my eyes were not drawn towards these things. I recall standing aside from the pack, observing the swimsuits of my female friends hugging their bodies' subtle curves, my head feeling lighter than the inflatable inner tube I'd just been clinging to minutes earlier. When it was time to head inside the house to change out of dripping wet pool gear, the group always preferred to change in the same tiny, crowded bedroom. But I dissented, grabbing my clothes as fast as I could to retreat to separate chambers in search of solitude. Just before my mad dash at Laura Rogers's 11th birthday party, she and another girl came right up to me and asked “What’s the big deal? We’re all girls here!” I turned and bolted to the bathroom, locking the door shut and blocking it with my body, even though no one had followed me.

* * *

Throughout high school, I often spent hours at the riverside park just one block away after my grueling day was finally finished. One warm spring afternoon, Rebecca and I were sitting on a green bench right by the water. As we watched the shimmering crystals that danced upon the waves of the Hudson, Rebecca silently moved from the upright position to horizontal. She gently lowered her head onto my lap, stretched her legs out along the bench (one crossed over the other), and closed her eyes. I breathed short, choppy breaths, and stole a glance at her illuminated figure before continuing my steadfast gaze upon at the river.

Perhaps it was then— when the still serenity of that moment washed over me— that I knew this was, and always would, be a part of me.