Highlight Reel

When I was just 18, this lady asked me what would be on my highlight reel. If every moment was part of a film, what would I choose for the highlight reel?

At the time, I completely blanked. I'd just graduated high school and I'd had a really great year, and at the same time was terrified and very hopeful and excited for the future. So I started with the first most recent time that I felt like I had the best time ever: "Prom," I replied. And she gawked at me, "REALLY??" Her mouth wide open, she couldn't believe I had a good time at prom, and it was the ONLY thing I could think of that I'd definitely choose for my highlight reel.

This question has lived on in my mind since that day, and sometimes I am in a moment thinking, "I bet today will make the highlight reel." But as I type this, I cannot think specifically of any one of those times that actually made it, as some turned out less memorable than I thought they would be, and some turned sour from events that occurred later. It's hard to choose recent events for the highlight reel because you never know when something will come sour those good times, but the memories from long ago are pretty much set in stone. And as each year comes to an end, I tend to reflect on the past 12 months as I look through the photos on my phone of all the good times, as well as the memories I can't bring myself to delete just yet. And looking at all those memories, I wonder... with all the people I met this year, all the goodbyes I wish I could have skipped, how can I cut any of these wonderful memories?

I know I'll keep the sunshine naps on two chairs facing each other in the driveway of a big brick house being built around me. Gymnastics on a wooden playground and grumbling through farm chores with my older brother, my first best friend.

I'll keep that first big snow in eighth grade when I thought the world was against me, when a walk to the mailbox with Dad washed away all my worries as we drew pictures with our footprints in the falling snow.

I'll keep a tear-filled phone call, quitting something that I used to love but recently just tortured me. I'll keep Friday night lights on the sideline, chasing down the bottles that Sam always chucked needlessly behind him on his way back to the field, and I'll keep the day he stood up for me to some girl that brought me up during his English class.

Prom. I still want to keep prom.

And I'll also keep that time sophomore year when Mom was away, when I cried at the dinner table and instead of telling his buttercup to toughen up, Dad hugged me.

And that boy I'd loved for ages? I'll keep the time he finally kissed me, even though it didn't turn out nearly how we hoped it would. Even though we lost it all from then, that night was the glitteriest magic, like it was all I ever could possibly need.

I'll keep the day I found out my new sibling was a girl!

All those Tuesday’s, daredevils flying recklessly down the hill out back at Nana’s house, on sleds, on bikes, on foot.

And those summer days at Nini’s lake, when Joey would come down, and he’d try to scare me out of jumping in because he didn’t like that I was braver, but I did.

I’ll keep car rides with Steph and sleepovers with Kaylee, Veronica, Abby.

I’ll keep that Christmas song in the heat of July on Northern Blvd with my best friend, and that late night double date pizza run with friends on the couch in front of a picturesque skyline over the hill and Long Live in the frontseat.

I'll keep the date where he pulled out my chair, draped his jacket around me, three firework kisses in the grass at some concert I didn't care about.

I'll keep a road trip with my best friend and laughter from some burnt CD my grandparents left for me.

I'll keep my second graduation day, the strongest bittersweet I ever tasted as some man I didn't know proclaimed, "it doesn't get any better than this!"

I'll keep all those nights at BHT running the pong table with Paul,

all those hobbies I tried but didn't stick with,

dance parties down the hall during Covid,

nights I couldn't sleep back when the only thing keeping me up was missing home.

I'll keep afternoons on museum hill in the sun when I found out who my friends were,

and the sprint across the sacred grass, my number in black on a list and the ring of a bell, a jump in a pool.

I'll keep the summer camp I didn't want to go to, and the trip I paid for without a second thought.

I'll keep my brother in the backseat of the station wagon, that guy in the car behind us with a Dawg Pound mask on the beginning of a trip we never got to because it tried to take my sister's life.

And I'll keep my first graduation day, a hug from my Dad on the stage handing me my diploma.

I'll keep rough seas with good shipmates and calls home when I was too choked up to speak.

There is so much more I would keep, if I could, but there's not enough room on the tape, not enough of a story, for all the times a song reached me so completely, all the times the sky was just so beautiful, all the times that I laughed til I cried or for the dreams I had as a kid of all the things I was going to build when I got older, not enough of an explanation for the happiness that is omnipresent most of the time inside of me, almost every single day. So there Danielle, here's the highlights.