Aly's Adventures

The stringy vines were blowing lightly in the warm wind as I gazed upward into the vast expanse of vivid green leaves. The sun bathed my exposed legs as I walked underneath the tree, brushing the rough surface of the bark. The cobblestones were uneven as my flip flops navigated over the bumps and cracks in the streets between the old stone buildings. Out of the corner of my eye my breath caught at the words, "Oldest Schoolhouse in America" on a sign that hung against the old, grey wood of a slanting schoolhouse sitting in the middle of all the stone walls. I could see the remnants of the past nestled in between the modern expansion. An old water wheel was turning on the other side of the road beside a Spanish looking water fountain. I cross the cobblestones and stare into the clear water and a single penny stares heads-up back at me. My hand slipped into my jean pocket and grasped around the warm copper of a single penny I had carried with me over from Canada. I brought the penny up to my chest and squeezed it between my hands, imagining my hope seeping into the small piece of money. Even though it was discontinued, it could still do something for me. I whispered the words of my wish into my hand and dropped the penny into the fountain. It slowly fell to the bottom of the water, landing beside the other penny. Then I realized, people were passing me by, passing the old schoolhouse and the water wheel and the fountain. No attention was given to the splashes of the past, no one paid attention to what was no longer current, just like the penny. It disappeared out of people’s wallets, car cup holders, and bottoms of pockets all because people stopped making them. I realized then that the past shapes our future, and it gives us hope but it should always be remember, sometimes it should be brought back to bring you luck, like my penny will. Sometimes, I thought as I turned on my heel and gazed at the Americans passing me, I wonder why we change so quickly, why we grasp the ideas of the new and drop the old, just as fast as the penny fell from my hand. I knew then that the person I was when I entered the Spanish looking cobblestone streets and to the second I turned away from the fountain that I was different. But I knew, as I began to walk once more down the road gazing in amazement at the bright blue sky, that I would always remember who I was, and what I've wanted but also why I changed.