Every morning, just after breakfast, Princess Montero walked to school hand-in-hand with her mother. It had become a special part of her daily routine—a time not just to get to school, but to observe, learn, and bond with her mom.
They strolled through a busy street that was already alive with motion. Cars honked, bicycles zipped by, and street vendors called out to early passersby. Princess loved watching the world wake up. As they walked, her eyes wandered eagerly, reading the logos of stores, reading the signs posted on poles and shop doors, and identifying the colors and shapes of traffic signs.
“Look, Mama,” she said one morning, pointing to a large red sign. “That one says STOP!”
Her mother smiled and nodded. “Very good, Princess. Always follow the signs. They help keep us safe.”
They passed by a long line of shops and fast-food chains that Princess was beginning to recognize by name and by scent. The smell of freshly baked bread drifted from a nearby bakery. A food stall was already grilling hotdogs, and Princess could hear the faint music playing from a convenience store’s open door.
But what made the walk even more special was the moment they passed by her old kindergarten school—the cheerful, yellow-painted building with its small garden and colorful mural walls. Princess always slowed down here and glanced at the playground behind the gates.
“I remember that place so well,” she whispered one morning, more to herself than to anyone else.
She still remembered the kind face of Ms. Cruz, her kindergarten teacher, who had taught her the very first lessons she ever learned in school—colors, shapes, numbers, and most of all, kindness.
“Red, yellow, blue… triangle, square, circle…” Princess muttered as she recalled the flashcards Ms. Cruz used during morning lessons. She could still picture the bright posters on the classroom walls, the colorful paintbrushes during art time, and the soft counting songs they sang as a class. Her favorite days were the ones when they painted pictures of animals or drew their families. She had always been proud of her drawings, especially when Ms. Cruz would hang them on the wall for everyone to see.
“I miss painting with my fingers,” Princess once told her mom. “And story time after recess.”
Her mother squeezed her hand gently. “You learned so much back then. And now you’re ready to learn even more.”
As they neared her current school, Princess stood taller. The busy streets behind her faded, and in front of her stood a place where she would create new memories, learn new lessons, and meet new friends.
Still, every walk to school reminded her of where she started, and how far she’d already come—step by step, sign by sign, memory by memory.