I was clearing out one of my message inboxes the other day and came across an exchange I had completely forgotten about. It was actually one that significantly impacted my life at the time. I was going to college, working part time, and newly married while my husband traveled for work. During that time I was buried by school and work--slowly digging myself down into nonexistence. Everything about my life felt foggy, and it wasn't just because of the January forecast---though that might have had some impact too. Then one day I ran into someone on campus. He was a friend I forgot I had.
I was walking out of the JKHB I think, one of the English buildings. I had my head down, hands in pockets, and walked at my usual college campus clip. I'm not sure how or why I looked up, but just at the right moment I glimpsed someone I vaguely recognized--but surely he wouldn't recognize me. I mean, it had been years and years since we had really been in contact. I was about to resume my stride when our eyes met. And though he now had a mustache and seemed a little shorter than I remembered, I saw my own spark of recognition glinting back at me in his eyes.
We started off conversation with the usual, "Hey!" The kind that says, I know you and I can see that you know me. That was followed by a brief exchange of how are you, what are you up to, how is life? We crammed in as much information as we could, each one of us heading to the next class or office. Before parting I mentioned I was on Facebook and he could find me there so we could continue our chat.
Now a little backstory. In junior high he was my stand partner for a while. It was Mr. Davis' orchestra class in 8th grade. We sat by each other and talked often. He was the only boy in the viola section. One of the girls in the section had a pretty big crush on him and she would ask me questions about him all the time, which was funny to me. I thought he was a pretty cool kid, but didn't think our stand-partnership really signified anything akin to friendship. He was just the boy I sat by in orchestra class. He was genuine, considerate, and funny. I wouldn't exactly call him popular or anything, not that he wasn't, but I would say he was a very likable person.
I was sorely disappointed when he broke not just one arm, but then the other just as he was about to get his other cast off. Mr. Davis was beside himself. Needless to say, he couldn't play the viola anymore and as such, couldn't be my stand partner. Instead he did jobs and things for Mr. Davis where he could. With the partnership dissolved we didn't interact very much anymore, though we often saw each other in passing throughout the rest of junior high and even high school. Maybe talked here and there. He was elected Student Body President our senior year, which I felt was fitting for a genuinely likable person.
However, it meant our paths separated, and hadn't really crossed in several years. Running into him was a surprise. I was going to college pretty much in the same town I had grown up in, but I never ran into anyone I knew from the area. When I did, it was rare and never amounted to much. So it was even more surprising when he didn't just acknowledge me, but acted like we were good friends. In just a couple of days he had found me on Facebook, even with my new last name, and we had exchanged a few messages. We talked about what we were studying, how married life was going for me and dating life was going for him. We even started a little back and forth "name that movie quote," game.
It was a fairly simple exchange that lasted maybe a month before we got busy and lost touch again. But it was a lifeline I didn't know I needed. College is an endless flow of change. You move from course to course and job to job. Your teachers, class mates, buildings, and bosses cycle through--and it is so difficult have and to hold on to those connections. This surprise encounter tethered me to my past and present, and gave me hope that things were going to work out just fine.
Today he is married with two kids and living happily in Colorado. We still aren't really in touch anymore, and that is just how it goes sometimes. But despite that, thanks friend, for stopping and taking the time eight years ago to acknowledge our connection. Looking back now I remember the feeling so clearly. That day I wasn't another face in the endless crowd on campus. I was me, and that meant something.
