Student Parking Spots

At my public high school in suburban New Jersey, there weren’t nearly enough parking spots for every student. Naturally, seniors were given priority, but even so there weren't enough spots, so they held a raffle to decide who would get one. My sophomore year, my brother, who was a senior at the time, was lucky enough to get a spot, and a pretty good one at that. He drove us to school everyday in his busted down black Honda Accord. I rarely rode home with him, as I was always in a million extracurriculars, but on the off chance that I did, I had to sprint to his car, because he always wanted to leave first and the lot got backed up very quickly. Usually, we got stuck in the jam anyway. Oh well. But whenever I walk past that parking spot, I feel a unique sense of nostalgia. That spot defined the early mornings of my sophomore year, which is often a formative time in our lives. Mine was no different. When I pass that spot, I can recall exactly how I felt on those early mornings, which was usually tired and cold. But I can also recall the many emotions I felt in those moments. The dread of a chemistry test later that day. The sheer loneliness after another weekend spent alone. The excitement for a Friday night football game. As the final place I would be before starting my school day, that spot holds so many of those early morning emotions that often go forgotten and written off.

Of course, my brother wasn’t the only person with a parking spot. Everyday we parked next to my drum major’s insanely boxy Kia. Behind some kid’s parent’s car that was way nicer than my brother’s car that literally had the cushioning on the ceiling in the back falling off. Across from a beautiful vintage sports car. I was always impressed by that one. I still have those spots burned into my memory. Those of my friends, too. I distinctly remember the feeling of getting into my friend Ally’s sedan, parked right next to the tennis courts. I always appreciated when one of my senior friends would offer me a ride, because, of course, I was much too shy to ask for myself. Most days, though, I just ended up walking home by myself. I’ve always liked walking, though. It gives me time to cool down and gives me an excuse to not really be doing anything productive. The school day always made me suppress my mind so I could focus on trying to learn, but when I would walk home, I got a chance to let my thoughts go wherever they wanted. It was peaceful.

Something that always intrigued me about the senior parking spots was how they had been home to so many different cars. I always find it hard to wrap my head around concepts like that. Dozens of different people have inhabited each of these spots over the years. Every single person had a life in high school just as complex as mine. They all had their own lives, problems, and relationships. While I know logically that this is true, it’s hard for me to actually comprehend the idea of it. How could so many people have lives just as complex as mine? My brother could’ve been the fiftieth person to have that parking spot. Despite that, I’ll never know these people. I’ll never meet them, or know their names, or even know what they look like. And really, I could say that about the whole world. Tens of billions of people have lived on this planet, and I’ll only ever meet a few thousand of them. Of course, the human mind isn’t really built to comprehend numbers that big, but still, the idea engulfs me. As humans, we focus so much on our own lives and problems that we tend to forget that every single other person on Earth has lives that are just as complex.

But even if there are billions of people on Earth with infinite little intricacies to their lives, right now I’m thinking about my brother’s senior parking spot. I’m thinking about cold February mornings and Yeti mugs full of tea and being late for first period Spanish. And as I write this, I feel that unique nostalgia that only applies to a certain period of my life. People will continue to inhabit for nine months and then leave every single spot in the senior parking lot, and I’m okay with that. Change is a part of life. Next year, one of those spots will be mine. Hopefully. And after that? Who knows. The future is uncertain, and while part of me is terrified, another part of me is hopeful for a better future. But no matter how much I hope, I’m still stuck in this school for the next two years. And senior parking spots will continue to be a thing, probably until the end of time. Or until our school gets a big enough budget to build a bigger parking lot. Until then, parking spots hold a unique blend of existential dread and nostalgia.

I give student parking spots three stars.