Dear J,

I remember you, and I often think about you and wonder if you remember me.  We were only mere children when we knew each other, only eight years old, in the second grade.  I can close my eyes and summon up your picture even now – I see your freckled little face, your sandy blond hair that was usually sticking up, your sparkling eyes of which I cannot recall the color.  It’s been so long.  Twenty-two plus years have passed since I saw you last.  I wonder if you’re still living in Brewster.  I wonder if you’re married, if you are a daddy.  I cannot remember you last name – if I did, I’d probably find you on Facebook.  Hi, remember me?  I was the little girl you played with in second grade, the one you said you’d marry when we grew up.  We’d probably laugh about that now.  We were so young.  How did we even know what love was?

The thing I remember the most about you is that you were so gentle with me, so careful.  That one day at recess when you took my hand in yours and urged me to walk with you.  The expression on your face begged me to trust you.  You wouldn’t let me fall, and even if I did, you’d catch me before I even touched the ground.  Another memory:  I was happily playing with you and my other two friends, Theresa and Laura, when this other girl, Melissa, walked up to us and demanded that I play with her and only her.  I refused, and was about to invite her to play with all of us when she walked off in a huff.  Of course, I followed her, and you followed me.  So did Theresa and Laura.  But as soon as I reached Melissa, she got up from where she was sitting on the sidewalk, her arms around her knees and her head down and walked off again, only to sit down in the exact same position.  There was no reasoning with her.  So we went back to whatever we were doing.

I don’t remember saying goodbye to you on the last day of second grade.  But you must have known I was moving that summer.  I distinctively remember telling Theresa and Laura.  Theresa was moving too, if my memory is right.  In my imagination, I still see you as the little boy you once were, as I saw you last, even though, you’re a man now, all grown up.  I wouldn’t even recognize you if I passed you on the street.

Today, I am all right, and I hope you are too, wherever you are.  I wish you the best life possible.



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