on the bus ride home tonight, i looked up and noticed a girl i'd gone to elementary school with.

her name was Angelina and she was the coolest. i have very few crisp memories of being little but i do remember the day Angelina brought her Speak'n'Spell out to recess. i remember exactly where we crowded around her on the asphalt at Brisco Elementary to watch or to play. i remember her smile and her eyes. i remember how cool she was, even in the third grade.

i didn't say anything to her on the bus tonight and i'm pretty sure she didn't recognize me. she looked like she is still the coolest. a naturally beautiful face, like an italian country girl, smooth and defined. something about it smiles even when she's not smiling, with just a bit of her mouth turned up as if she knew something mischevious but not worth sharing. it is exactly the same face i remember from the third grade.

she is, of course, different in every other way. she wears an incredible headdress of dreadlocks that reaches past her waist. she struts in all black with studded cuffs and belt. her friend, her partner, her bus companion talks loudly about someone they both know and his party. Angelina answers quietly and her companion asks a loud, "what?"

i didn't talk to her because i enjoyed my third grade memory so much. i didn't want to say all the boring things one says when one bumps into an old acquaintance unexpectedly. i didn't want to tell her about my job or my apartment or my life. i didn't want to make awkward promises to meet for lunch or coffee or a drink. i didn't want to interrupt the experience of remembering who she was and appreciating who she turned out to be.

the coolest.