"The Boy I Remembered" By Maya Faulstich

Photo by Oleg Magni from Pexels

I didn’t need to see his face to know it was him. Who else would have little hand-drawn cartoons I could recognize anywhere sticking out of their back pocket? Suddenly my average trip to the supermarket became a quest to re-connect with someone who was once important to me. Everyone else in the store became irrelevant, no longer entitled to my attention.

Once I glimpsed the man rushing down the aisle, his warm slim hands reaching to pull dried pasta and tomato sauce off the shelves, his soft brown shoulder length hair dangling behind his neck, there was no turning back. My eyes followed his every move, captivated. I muffled a laugh as I heard his bright yellow sneakers squeak each time he stepped, reminding me of running by his side, our breathing and heartbeats synchronized.

As he turned a corner down the aisle, I made an impulse decision. I needed to chase after him and fix what had been broken all these years. I ditched my shopping cart and hurried after him. I followed him down every aisle in the supermarket, trying to catch a glance at his face. Vibrant memories from school thrummed inside me, flooding my head, and overwhelming me. I kept my focus locked on his skinny legs swallowed by the same old style of crumpled blue jeans he wore every day.

Suddenly, his big strides stopped; he was aware of my footsteps. When he turned to see who was following him, the spark of his dark almond brown eyes - the color of truth - caught mine and I was stuck in the moment.

I didn’t need to search those eyes to find the boy I remembered. His playfulness, his laughter, his kindness and ambition were all embedded deep in those eyes. All the other people were blurs in my peripheral vision. The sounds of everyone in a hurry, the noise of wheels on carts squeaking by were muffled by the rush of blood I heard pulsing through my ears. My pounding heart, rapidly getting faster. Boom. Boom. Boom.

I thought of all the things I could say. I could tell him who I am, who I was, what I’m doing. I could learn who he had become. We could talk and catch up on all the years we’d missed. We could laugh at our past mistakes. We could reconnect. We could remember. We could forgive. I shifted, aware that I was awkwardly staring at him. I started to explain myself when he interrupted,

“Do I know you?”

He didn’t recognize me? Taking a breath, I opened my mouth to speak as a wave of fear and nausea overcame me.

Quickly, I uttered, “No.”

I slouched, turned and walked away. 

I could feel his eyes on me, but I never looked back.

Maya Faulstich is 13 years old; she lives in Yarmouth, Maine.  Maya is passionate about stopping climate change and has worked on many projects to raise and focus awareness, specifically around plastic pollution. She loves to write songs and harmonize, and in the winter, she loves to go Nordic skiing with her family.