The other day, while thumbing through an old book, I came across a piece of paper that had the married name of an old college friend written on it. I never would have remembered that married name because I always thought of my friend by her maiden name. It made me wonder whatever happened to her and her husband. I was in their wedding in 1968, and then I can’t remember anything more about them except they moved to Colorado.
So many people enter your life at different times. They mean so much to you, and then your life changes and they are no longer a part of it. It mades me sad, in a way. I wish I could get them all together again, line them up in a row, and ask them what they’ve been doing for the past thirty or forty years.
Whatever happend to Karen who became an Eastern Airlines stewardess after college? I used to visit her in New York City, where she was stationed between flights, when I would go into the city on business for my first job out of college. Where is Judy now, Judy who could answer anyone’s phone on the 6th floor of McMahon Hall, in all twenty rooms, before the phone had rung three times and before any of us could jump off the bed or push our desk chairs back to answer it ourselves? She knew everything about all forty of us, and I know nothing about her.
Most of all, whatever happened to David who had dared George to ask me out in the first place? He had so many issues; is he even still alive? I want to find him and say to him, “See what happened because you dared George to ask me out? See what happiness you brought?” Did David ever find any happiness of his own?
I still see so many of their faces, these people who were part of me for a certain time of my life. It makes me feel incomplete, like something is missing, certain cells of my being have vanished with them. They were important to me once, and I still smile when I think of them. I wonder…do they ever think of me?