The breeze was warm against my face as I ran during a kickball game in my fifth grade year. It was another ordinary day on the playground, but my teacher had plans to leave early. He was leaving us with our teacher’s assistant, Mr. Rayner.

As usual, there was always those selected few students that had not done their homework or had disturbed the class so they were “benched.” They would sit on the side doing their homework while the rest of the class got to play.

That day after our teacher left, everything seemed okay. I remember looking over at my “benched” classmates, everything was okay. I returned my focus to the kickball game.

After that, I’m not exactly sure what happened. Not even till this day do I remember what happened after that. It was kind of all a blur.

I think someone screamed. I think. I looked over and Mr. Rayner was on the floor. I was shocked. I didn’t understand, why or how he got there. None of us did. We all ran up to him, and many of us stared as he rolled around on the floor. We didn’t know what to do.

Mr. Rayner was having a seizure.

I remember watching people run to the office to get help. We didn’t understand. All we knew was that Mr. Rayner was in trouble.

I felt like I ran around in circles that day. Till this day, I don’t understand why I was so numb that day. I wanted to help, but all I could do was stare. I wanted to cry, to scream.

A teacher from a nearby classroom probably heard the screams. She ran to Mr. Rayner & ripped off her belt to tie it around his mouth.

When someone is having a seizure, they lose control of their body. They begin to choke themselves with their tongue. The teacher acted quickly and Mr. Rayner began to calm down.

I don’t remember how I ended up in that classroom with all my other classmates. There in that classroom, we all cried. It didn’t matter. We all cried, boys and girls.

That day, my fifth grade class came closer than ever. In our confusion and fear, we comforted each other. Telling each other everything was going to be okay, even as tears rolled down our eyes.

The day after, our teacher informed us that Mr. Rayner wanted us all to know that he was well. We were relieved, and we all hoped he would make it to our fifth grade graduation.

But after that day in the playground, we never saw Mr. Rayner again.

To this day, I don’t know if Mr. Rayner actually survived that seizure, if he passed away or if no one told my fifth grade class because they thought it would be too impacting. After all, we were all just nine or 10 years old, and had already experienced a lot.

I hope Mr. Rayner survived. I hope he’s still alive. He was a great person. We all loved him very much. The experience brought my fifth grade class together. We shared in laughter and tears. We learned to care about each other after that day.

Even when we all left elementary school, moved on to middle school, high school, and now, college, I know that many of them still remember that day like I do. As horrible as the event was it helped shape me into a person that tries to live her days to the fullest. It made me realize that I had to cherish the air I breathe and the moments that I share with those I love.

So as this day starts off, I would like to encourage you to take a moment to tell those close to you that you love them. Make sure that you seize the day, wear a big happy smile on your face, and no matter what comes your way, just know you’ll be okay.