He was a new student from Arizona who entered my 4th grade class.
He spiked his bangs like the rest of the boys did to look cool.
He once blocked a goal in gym class by doing a perfect center split.
He did martial arts at the talent show on the last day of school.
He sat next to me in Ms. Conron's 5th grade class, the first time we really talked.
"Isn't it funny how we never talked until recently?" he asked, eyes shining.
"That's just because our seats are next to each other," I replied coldly.
He moved away, he moved back, and then entered the lives of others. He easily slipped out of my own, something that tends to happen after elementary school graduation.
One day this past spring, I walked to my bus alone. He was walking towards the school, and our paths crossed for a flicker of a moment. He looked up at me and waited to see if I would offer a hint of recognition, warmness, anything. I smiled and waved, he returned the greeting, and we went off in our separate directions.
"Truck fatally strikes Warren Township teen on Route 78." He hasn't been in a class of mine since Ms. Conron's fifth grade class, and now he never will. You can hardly know someone, but when that someone is gone, your mind becomes illuminated with the ghosts of conversations past.
it's amazing how death makes people realize so much. sadly, these realizations tend to come when we think it's too late. but it's not. i know that you care. i believe he knows that you care, even now. i really believe that.
ReplyDeletemaybe he died to teach a simple lesson, to you and i'm sure to many others in your town, and now to me-a lesson we all knew but never realized: to make the most of the time we have together.
this made me cry. i will forever be touched by your beautiful words in depicting how delicate life is.
this is great.
ReplyDeletethank you
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