”Past” by Gabe Edamura

It’s Wednesday night. My practice ran late. Again. And I have not one, not three, but two tests tomorrow. I have a math test in which we are learning about analyzing shapes. I think I can identify a circle vs a rectangle. How hard can it be? My Spanish test is on el pretérito, the past tense for verbs. The past? How often do we even need to talk about the past? I always hear about the future and the now. Never think of the past. Why is it so important that I learn about it before learning other words?

Lost in the haze of my thoughts, I didn’t even realize I was home. I race out of the car and take a quick shower. What next? Dinner. I get to the kitchen and make myself a plate. I don’t even have time to think about what I am eating. My mind is already stuck to the math test. Theorems, formulas, postulates blink through my head as I eat. It’s already 9. My mind gets stuck on an engraving on the table. “In Honor of Agnes Santos.” The name doesn’t mean much to me. It’s just a name from the past. The past. Aw man, I forgot about my Spanish test. I get up from the table with a half full stomach and get to my desk to study.

Nothing is getting through my head. “Tienes que cambiar las vocales para la conjugación”. I can’t understand any of this. Words on a page. That’s all they are. How can I learn from something that is meaningless to me? I’ve been sitting. Waiting. Waiting for something to go through to me but nothing is happening. As if there is a brick wall blocking everything trying to sink in. 11 pm. My eyelids start to weigh on me with a surprisingly crushing weight. Nothing is working so it is best I just go to bed.

The day comes. I don’t remember anything I was looking at the night before. This isn’t good. The Spanish test comes and I struggle through it. Nothing I studied helps. But now it’s in the past. Eyes on the future. I try studying during lunch but the words on the page don’t come to life. They still are just words on a page. The math test was terrible. Nothing made sense to me. I kept getting hit by waves of anxiety every time the teacher called how much time there was. Just words on a page but at least now it’s in the past.

I ask my teacher what I can do about the test, and if there is any way I can get some extra credit for doing corrections. She tells me it’s in the past. I can’t change what happened in the past but I can learn from it. I can learn what I did wrong in the test and apply it to the future. The past.

When I come home from school, I’m too tired to do anything. I slowly drag across the living room and a picture catches my eye. It’s always been there but I’ve never paid much attention to it. A picture of my grandma. I’ve only met her when I was one and I don’t remember anything about her. Under the picture says “Agnes Santos.” The name of my grandmother. Her maiden name which I didn’t know anything about.

My mom tells me I get my fighting spirit from her. This isn’t just a picture of the past. It is a part of me that I inherited. A part of my family. A part of me that keeps going even if I fail a test. A part of me that learns from the past and becomes better.