August 7, 2017
“I used to always think I remembered everyone but no one remembered me…” She spoke bashfully, embarrassed about disappearing on him for a year and suddenly speaking up again. Her sentimentality brought memories back of an easy summer, an easier summer elective course, and the easiest exchanges with friends in new places.
She remembered he towered over her, but she could hardly remember his face. She knew he was from the valley and he fixed cars at his dad’s shop, which explained his heavily callused fingertips and palms. She remembered he’d be going to the same school as her later on, but she didn’t give it a second thought until she realized he wasn’t there with her. She remembered the grin that appeared on his face, dipping his chin, dimpling his cheeks, when he entered the classroom while she struck the piano keys and serenaded the class prior to roll call.
“I sometimes forget who people are after meeting so many…” His voice trailed off, a pensive, unreadable expression on his face. “But I remembered you.”