By Jerusha
Date: 26 October 1999

The person who changed my life

   The first letter was unexpected. I was completely shocked to hear from him.
From the way our friendship had ended, I thoroughly never expected to hear from
him again. I never has apprehensive, always excited. And for three days I would 
run to the computer after work or school to see if I had any messeges. In the 
third letters you could feel the excitement from both of us. He announced he was
coming to town, and wondered if I'd meet him. It had been three years since we'd
spoken civil words. The time for apologies was long since gone, but there had 
never really been a need. We both could feel the regret for what had passed
between us, but were too excited to begin a new friendship to dwell on the past.
We agreed to meet the next day after my classes were through. I raced home and
tried to look my best without looking like I'd tried. The phone call came 
shortly after I arrived, and he was on his way. His drive across town must have
been at light speed, because it seemed only seconds passed and he was at my 
door. I heard the ring of the bell as it echoed through the house. I gathered 
my things and taking a deep breath I opened the front door. I guess I had 
expected to find the exact same person I had known 3 years ago. The boy with
floppy blondish hair and fidgeting hands. This was someone entirely new. As I 
pulled back the door, I took in the full picture of him. Taller than I thought
possible, he seemed to be a giant. I felt the coldness of the door handle in my
hand and realized I was staring. He must have thought the same because he 
blushed and glanced away. For a moment time stood still and I looked at the 
situation outside myself. Only he and I moved, the rest of the world held its 
breath. The late summer sun's warmth bathed our surroundings. And an early 
autumn wind slid across my uncovered back. The smell of fucia bush and fresh
cut grass wrapped around us. The air seemed heavy and thick despite the breeze.
Looking at me he said, "You look... better than I remember."
I smiled and replied, "You're not so bad yourself."
Finally the moment was broken in an awkward embrace. I went to hug him and he
looked surprised. He regarded me as if he thought I might bite him. He smiled
again and I felt that we had never been apart.
   Almost immeditatly we began talking about everything that had happened in 
the last three years. We walked to his car, which was his pride and joy, and I
tried to be as graceful as possible to sit in my split skirt. As we drove around
town at breakneck speed, he told me of his job and his new pursuit to be a 
race car driver. This did not come as a surprise at this point. Looking out the
tinted window of this speeding metal encasement, other cars flashed by as if 
they were standing still. If anyone else I know had driven this way I would 
have been terrified. But not with him, he exuded confidence. In this pristine
car, 70's funk music played. Not so loud as to be invasive, but audible enough
to fill in the awkward pause or two. Every so often he would glance over at me.
His eyes sparkled like a child's. A third of a tank of gas later we finally 
decided to eat. Turning into La Hacienda we got out and went in. I felt sorry
for the waitress. We spent all our time talking and had'nt even looked at the
menu. We must have been there for thirty or forty minutes or more before we
finally ordered. As we talked of old times and times the other had missed,
hispanic cantina music played in the background. He told me about his last 
romantic endeavor and how terribly it had ended. I shared my own horror stories
about past relationships. I think our similar stories of love gone terribly
arye bonded us. We laughed hysterically about our long past relationship, and
tried to figure out exactly what went wrong. By the end of lunch I felt as if
he had known me my entire life. After a friendly squabble about who would pick
up the check, we hopped ( he hopped, I slid ver unglamourously ) into the low
seats and jetted off to the park.
   There, we had more conversations about what we believed, how life was, the 
future, and anything else that was remotely important in our lives. It made me
feel so alive to be around him, to experience through his stories. My 
interaction with people had been dramatically reduced as of late. My friends 
moving away for college and my own classes and work had sort of isolated me. 
I'd forgotten how to be a friend. I had slipped into a depression and my self
esteem took a dive. I felt cold to everything, like I was lost and alone. I left
my passion of music and not even picked up my guitar in months. He finally 
asked the question I had been dreading,
"How's your singing going? You've got to sing for me agian."
I grimaced, "I sort of gave up."
I looked up at him. The expression on his face seemed bewildered and almost
stricken. I expected to hear chiding remarks about my quitting, but instead he
smiled and said,
"Well, I guess you'll just have to start over. Come on right now, sing 
something!!!" 
He seemed so excited. More excited than I had ever been about my music. I was
so suprised that I could'nt even speak, the words did'nt seem to know how to 
form in my mouth. This person who I had'nt known in three years was supporting
the one thing that gave me worth, the one thing that had been everything to me.
No one else had even really cared, except my mom. He begged and pleaded for me
to sing, but I could'nt because I was to embarrased. He told me how much he
had enjoyed my voice in the past, and he only relented when I promised to sing
later. I sat there in total amazement. This man sprawled out in the grass next 
to me believed in me more than I believed in myself. He was so supportive of
my dreams, and lifted me up to be more than I hoped I could. It was like he 
knew every part of me; the friend, the sister, the lover, and the child. I 
turned to him.
"You amaze me." I said with eyes as big as dinner plates.
   I simply could not believe this was happening. I was feeling better than I
had in months, maybe years. Everything I did seemed to be important to him; the
way I walked, how I spoke, the experiences I had, everything I had tried to 
forget, and everything I tried to be. Not even my best friend had been able to
put me right with the world, and in one afternoon this man taught me how to
believe in myself again.
   That evening I went to work grinning like a fool, wondering how on earth I
could feel this good. Returning home at midnight, I found my guitar next to my
bed. I pulled it from it's case and softly played until my fingers ached. I 
wrote a song that had been rolling around in my head for months. I sat on my 
bed in the pre-dawn darkness, thinking about this friend who had popped into
my life when I needed him most. I think I might had given up completely and 
forgotten the piece of myself I considered most sacred. 
Maybe someday I can repay him, but for now all I am is greatful that he found 
me.