I was probably in second grade.

I remember liking school. I wanted to make friends. I liked my teacher. Things felt… normal, I guess.

One morning, walking to school, it had just rained. There were three of us, and we started jumping into a big puddle along the way. Just being kids. Laughing. Not thinking about anything beyond that moment.

I showed up to school soaked.

They called my mom to bring me a change of clothes.

She wasn’t happy.

Even though she didn’t work at the time and could come, I remember how disappointed she was in me. At that age, I didn’t really understand it. I just knew I had done something wrong.

Looking back now, I think it was more than just wet clothes.

I think she was already seeing the difference between me and my twin brother.

He was more put together. More in line. Easier.

I was… a little more off.

More willing to jump in the puddle and deal with whatever came after.

At the time, I didn’t have words for it. I didn’t think of it as being different.

But I remember the feeling.

Like I had stepped just slightly outside of where I was supposed to be.

That moment didn’t define everything—but it was the beginning of something I’d recognize more and more over time.

My grade school years would end up following that same pattern.

Not completely out of line.

But not quite in it either.

Just… off kilter.