There's a writing exercise a friend told me about that helps with writer's block. You start with the phrase, "I remember," and go from there. Today's topic will be: a man from my past.
I remember his hair hanging in his face, and how he dressed like a skater. He must have worn all-stars or something similar; I really don't know. I remember his eyes- they were kind, and still are, from what I can tell from photographs of him. I think the vibe he gave off was what I remember the most because it made me at ease, but then I also found him attractive, and given that we were both teenagers, well, the hormones won out. I had the stupidest crush on him. I actually met him through his younger sister (I know, how very cliche), and she and I are very close in age- 9 days apart, to be exact. But one hopes that's where the similarities ends. One doesn't want to remind a man of his sister, right?
I remember meeting someone like him the summer I turned 23. He was like my Hobbes or my own personal Buddha. He was a great friend and if the two of us hadn't moved 27 times since 1996, and if he didn't have such a common name that made searching for him on Facebook nearly impossible, I like to think we'd still be in touch. The guy I met in the summer I turned 23 was named Aaron. The guy I met as a teenager was named B, for our purposes.
I didn't hear B's name for a long time. I ran into his sister at our 10-year reunion and asked how he was. She said he was married. I was at that point of life where it seemed all the good ones were spoken for, so I was disappointed but it was OK. He was a person I hadn't seen for years, after all.
But before I attended this reunion, or maybe after (it's kind of a blur, my 20s), I heard another story about B, from someone else who played a peripheral role in my teenage years. It was most intriguing. Recently I had the chance to ask B about it... and I'll tell that story the next time I sign in. For now, it's time to make the doughnuts.