They always say that people come and go in your life. Some, supposively, leave footprints. These are engrained in your heart, your mind, and your soul.
Can you ever know which people will stay?
Or, can you ever really take hold of a relationship meant to exist only at a certain time?
The people who have walked in my life are numerous, barely recallable, as I mentally think about old friends, strangers, fleeting relationships, and those who stuck around awhile, and even those who left as quickly as they came.
I remember Mrs. Hamilton from 3rd grade. She taught me to love, well me. There was a time in my life where I didn't have a ton of confidence In myself, and still Mrs. Hamilton helped me see that who I was was something to be proud of. We were penpals until I was in middle school, and she always reminded me that liking country music was cool no matter what the other kids thought. She encouraged me to read, to explore, and to appreciate the knowledge you can find out there in the real world. I was the quiet, shy, and curious kid in my class and she let me be exactly that.
I remember Erik Bromley. I was practically head over heels for that boy from the beginnings of elementary school until 7th grade. We had our moments of holding hands, but I think that was only because I would take out the boys during the epic soccer games at recess. Surely he wasn't after my refined femininity. I remember that he "broke up" with me over email. Classy, right? I was that love sick girl in middle school for him, but really, I could have done so much better.
I remember that homeless man in DC. He played the drums on the streets and we took a picture with him. He made me laugh. And our class thought he was so cool, and I did too. I struggled to understand why he could only fit his belongings in one bag. I can see his smile, his laugh, and I can't help but wonder what he's doing now.
I remember my great grandmother Lillian. She died when I was 7, but if I close my eyes long enough, I can see her face, feel her holding me. She was stunningly beautiful, and a woman of love. I remember her house in Nebraska, the way the color pink filled the room, and our large family crammed in one room, laughing. Lillian would play with all of the kids—my cousins—and I loved it there. I hate that I didn't say goodbye. I didn't go to her funeral.
I remember Roslyn from Birmingham. We met over coffee at Highlands Methodist and she was homeless. Yet, that was hardly her identity. She was beautiful, with remarkable features. Her eyes were big; they looked like they could hold all of the world's pain and love. At once. We talked openly about my college journey and her adventures in life. We emailed for the next two years, when suddenly the emails stopped. I don't know what happened, who stopped writing, but as I contemplate whether I should write one back, I can't help but wonder if she was just one of those people to come in and out of my life.
I remember Jennifer, my best friend up until middle school. We were childhood friends, our daddies had grown up together too. I imagined we would be friends forever, just like our daddies. Distance. It was really all it took. Jennifer isn't really Jennifer anymore. She identifies as a man now, and I suppose this is why I have avoided her the past couple of years. I think she has also hesitated in seeing me. She might not know what I would think. I think she is probably right. I don't know if I will see her again. Jennifer has changed, as have I, but I look fondly on our summer camp adventures, trips to the cabin, and fishing with our daddies.
So many people have left footprints.
Some that have left footprints in my heart are still around. Or maybe they are long gone, but I guess what I am trying to do, as I will the rest of my life, is to appreciate the people in my life for the time that I have them. Time and relationships are both fragile and I hope to learn one of these days that whether the people around me are staying or going isn't really the point. The point is that they are here. Now. And I can learn from them while they are around, so that I won't take for granted the days I have with them. I have been feeling this way about everyone here at school. I have deep relationships here: friends, teachers, mentors, teammates, and acquaintances. I know they won't all last once we leave Hendrix. It makes me worried. But instead, I can accept this and live it up while I am here.
My memories from Hendrix already mean something to me. I can't imagine these memories 20 years from now.
Still, the Hendrix experience is lasting another year and a half. No need to get ahead of myself.
Or, can you ever really take hold of a relationship meant to exist only at a certain time?
The people who have walked in my life are numerous, barely recallable, as I mentally think about old friends, strangers, fleeting relationships, and those who stuck around awhile, and even those who left as quickly as they came.
I remember Mrs. Hamilton from 3rd grade. She taught me to love, well me. There was a time in my life where I didn't have a ton of confidence In myself, and still Mrs. Hamilton helped me see that who I was was something to be proud of. We were penpals until I was in middle school, and she always reminded me that liking country music was cool no matter what the other kids thought. She encouraged me to read, to explore, and to appreciate the knowledge you can find out there in the real world. I was the quiet, shy, and curious kid in my class and she let me be exactly that.
I remember Erik Bromley. I was practically head over heels for that boy from the beginnings of elementary school until 7th grade. We had our moments of holding hands, but I think that was only because I would take out the boys during the epic soccer games at recess. Surely he wasn't after my refined femininity. I remember that he "broke up" with me over email. Classy, right? I was that love sick girl in middle school for him, but really, I could have done so much better.
I remember that homeless man in DC. He played the drums on the streets and we took a picture with him. He made me laugh. And our class thought he was so cool, and I did too. I struggled to understand why he could only fit his belongings in one bag. I can see his smile, his laugh, and I can't help but wonder what he's doing now.
I remember my great grandmother Lillian. She died when I was 7, but if I close my eyes long enough, I can see her face, feel her holding me. She was stunningly beautiful, and a woman of love. I remember her house in Nebraska, the way the color pink filled the room, and our large family crammed in one room, laughing. Lillian would play with all of the kids—my cousins—and I loved it there. I hate that I didn't say goodbye. I didn't go to her funeral.
I remember Roslyn from Birmingham. We met over coffee at Highlands Methodist and she was homeless. Yet, that was hardly her identity. She was beautiful, with remarkable features. Her eyes were big; they looked like they could hold all of the world's pain and love. At once. We talked openly about my college journey and her adventures in life. We emailed for the next two years, when suddenly the emails stopped. I don't know what happened, who stopped writing, but as I contemplate whether I should write one back, I can't help but wonder if she was just one of those people to come in and out of my life.
I remember Jennifer, my best friend up until middle school. We were childhood friends, our daddies had grown up together too. I imagined we would be friends forever, just like our daddies. Distance. It was really all it took. Jennifer isn't really Jennifer anymore. She identifies as a man now, and I suppose this is why I have avoided her the past couple of years. I think she has also hesitated in seeing me. She might not know what I would think. I think she is probably right. I don't know if I will see her again. Jennifer has changed, as have I, but I look fondly on our summer camp adventures, trips to the cabin, and fishing with our daddies.
So many people have left footprints.
Some that have left footprints in my heart are still around. Or maybe they are long gone, but I guess what I am trying to do, as I will the rest of my life, is to appreciate the people in my life for the time that I have them. Time and relationships are both fragile and I hope to learn one of these days that whether the people around me are staying or going isn't really the point. The point is that they are here. Now. And I can learn from them while they are around, so that I won't take for granted the days I have with them. I have been feeling this way about everyone here at school. I have deep relationships here: friends, teachers, mentors, teammates, and acquaintances. I know they won't all last once we leave Hendrix. It makes me worried. But instead, I can accept this and live it up while I am here.
My memories from Hendrix already mean something to me. I can't imagine these memories 20 years from now.
Still, the Hendrix experience is lasting another year and a half. No need to get ahead of myself.
This is beautiful, Heather. I enjoyed the discussion that we had in the car as well. I'm sorry, but I can't help but quote The Perks of Being a Wallflower, merely because you've reminded me that experiences bring special people into our lives, and for me, you're one of those special people. “Maybe it’s sad that these are now memories. And maybe it’s not sad. And maybe it’s just the fact that we loved, and this was the time we could spend.” I love you, B. Always.
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