Time Casts A Spell On You, But You Won't Forget Me, I Know I Could Have Loved You, But You Would Not Let Me

--"Silver Springs", Fleetwood Mac

Seven years ago today a girl named Rachel died.

Seven years ago I had the thought that everyone else had at the time, we will never forget about the tragedy that took place on that day. The horror and sadness were forever more going to be engrained in our memories or so we thought. But, like with everything else, with time our recollection begins to become less vivid; the feelings, less pronounced, until finally we find ourselves looking upon the date and not even realizing that it has been seven years. That's where I found myself today at work. I sat looking at the calendar, thinking that April 20th was important for some reason. Granted, it only took me about fifteen minutes to figure it out, but that is fifteen minutes more than it would have taken even two years ago. There was a time when I was reading Rachel's Tears and her other books at least once every few months. I was that obsessed with trying to emulate her--her generosity, her warmth of spirit, everything. I would not have even thought it would have been possible to forget what happened so completely. I would not have even thought it conceivable that I could have put her out of my mind totally that I would let the day pass without remembering her sacrifice.

It's been said that time heals all wounds, but sometimes I think a corrolary exists to that maxim. I think sometimes think that time severs all but the strongest of ties. I wanted to remember her always. I always wanted it known that there was at least one person on Earth who looked back on her lovingly every day. Sure, it was an admiration from afar, but it's probably the strongest I've ever felt about a person I did not know personally. Yet the further it got away from the day she died the less it became a focus of my life. One only has to look at this site to notice how much I've moved onto to discussing other topics when before I started this site I used to talk about her and Columbine a lot. With every passing year, though, it got harder to keep such a positive influence in my life as constant as it once was. It became less important for me to re-read the book, to revisit that part of my own life. It was a different time for me back then. I was in a different place. Maybe that's why I forgot about today. Or maybe it's just because it's been too long since I've had occasion to bring it up to anyone I know. Everyone who knows me has already heard me regale on and on about Rachel and how good I think she was. Once I had no one to "introduce" her to it became harder to keep her in everyday conversation. Consequently, it became harder to keep her and her ideals fresh in my mind.

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I used to have the biggest crush on this girl named Erin in my elementary/junior high school. I would talk about her for days on end to anyone who would listen among my friends and cousins. I exhibited all the usual signs--writing her name in my notebooks, daydreaming about our future together, and, of course, glancing in her direction every chance I got during class. For almost five or six years she literally was it for me. There was no one person I thought about more during those days than her.

But like most schoolboy crushes, it came to an abrupt end as soon as I graduated and moved on to a different high school than her. I forgot completely about how enamored I was of her.

Flash forward a couple of years and I was walking up to eat breakfast with a friend in town before heading out for the day. I walked into The Only Place In Town, a restaurant that was nearby in Sierra Madre, and who should be our hostess/waitress but Erin herself. For a split second all the familiar nervousness came back even though it had been a good two or three years since I last saw her. Sometimes there are certain people you just have knee-jerk reaction to. She was still beautiful as ever. I wanted to say hello, acknowledge my recognition of her, but, like I said, time severs all but the strongest of ties. In my head, I thought it had been too long. I felt awkward being the first one to say something to her outside of the bounds of the waitress-waited upon boundaries. It was as if I broke my silence on knowing who she was, all the pent-up and repressed longings for her that I thought I had put away for good would have come rushing back. I couldn't let that happen. I would not let that happen.

So, like a jerk, I pretended I didn't recognize her or, at the very least, I played it too cool to say anything about it. I must have come of as an ass, I admit it, but I've always ascribed to the "out of sight, out of mind" theory. I really had forgotten about her during high school and I really thought that to change that dynamic now would have been a mistake. I ate my breakfast without a word to her about catching up or inquiring how she was doing now. I ate my breakfast practically ignoring her presence, which was made an even harsher of a move by the fact that she had only one other table of customers. She kept on checking on us and I kept right on pretending I didn't know her from Eve. And, as I was leaving, I did not even say even so much as a good-bye.

I sometimes wonder if it was just the awkwardness of the situation that compelled me to keep quite or if perhaps I'm just by nature more reticent. As with anything I do, I do not feel like I'm beholden to convention. Convention says you should give gifts on Christmas and birthdays. Convention says you should say good-bye every time you leave someone's company. Convention says you should share dessert. And convention says when you bump into an old acquaintance you should engage in small talk and at least pretend like you're interested in what is their current situation in life. For starters, I do not believe in small talk and, secondly, I cannot work up enough interest in a person that I haven't seen in a couple of months, let alone a couple of years.

Still, I should have been nicer if only for the reason that she used to mean something to me once. Not personally, of course--but anyone who brings you joy in any form or fashion is worthy a little courtesy... even from a wretch like me. I cannot help but wonder, though, if time did not work as it did, if I was able to hold onto all those enamored feelings I had in junior high, if that encounter would have gone differently. Maybe if I held onto a small inkling of my "like" for her, I would have been able to stammer out at least a "how have you been" or "it's great to see you again."

And maybe, just maybe, I could have held onto the goals that I set for myself when I first came across Rachel's story. If I kept more of the pride and admirationg I felt for this young woman, I wouldn't have forgotten what today is the anniversary of and, most importantly, I wouldn't have forgotten a little each day about the kind of person like her I am striving to become.

If time didn't erase all feelings I could have still been that person I was back then.

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers