My 30th high school reunion is this year, and that has my mind on times gone by. I had a lot of fun in high school, so I look back with smiles and laughter. I have so many great memories, but there’s one I find particularly cool.
I had a short-lived stint as a cheerleader back in the day, and one night after a football game, I ended up squirreled away behind classroom C-1 kissing a boy who shall remain nameless. We were never a couple but had this one fun encounter and remained friends although we fell out of touch after graduation.
Years later, the principal who had handed me my diploma offered me a job teaching English at that very same school, and I found myself in classroom C-1. For those of you paying attention, this was the very same classroom outside of which I’d kissed that nameless boy. As soon as I walked in, I wandered over to the window and cracked up, looking at the spot and wondering what had ever happened to him.
My sixth period class was often crazy as hell and drove me nuts. When that would happen, I would wander back to those windows and stare at that spot and think, “Thank you, nameless boy, for kissing me that night because these kids are driving me batshit crazy, and that memory is saving me right now.”
Then I would turn back to that lunatic sixth period class with a smile on my face and hope in my heart that someday I’d be able to tell him he saved me a little when I was 16 and again when I was 26.
Nameless boy? If you’re reading this?