Do You Remember me Michelle?

Late at night when odd thoughts drift through my head I think of people I used to know. People I knew for a long time and people who drifted in my life and right back out like a wisp of smoke.

Have you ever met someone who stood out from the rest? The kind of person you have a casual conversation with once and remember for the rest of your life? I have. One of those people was a girl named Michelle.

The Pizza shop not far from Times Square in NYC was almost closed. The only people there were my friend, myself and two girls. It was empty because it was two AM on a weeknight. We were there because the bars had mostly closed and my friend and I didn’t want to go back to the ship yet. One of the girls started talking to my friend so a casual conversation sparked between the other girl and I.

She was a little shorter than me, cute with that look like she knew she’d done something she’d never be caught for lurking in the back of her eyes. She asked me where I was from, how I became a marine. I asked her where she’d been. She’d been living in England for a while. Somehow we began talking about life and important events.

She was in England. She was  in the area when the London Subway Bombings happened on July 7, 2005. Time has worn the edges off what we talked about, but here is what she told me as well as I can remember it.

“When the TV came on I was in a room with a lot of people. Then as the reports came in of the bombings in the subway it was like time stood still. There was a woman in traditional middle eastern dress nearby. As the images of what happened played out she covered her face. Her body shook as she cried with shame. You could feel the tension in the room. At that moment I felt the world changing around me. Like the world was never going to be the same. I’ll never forget that day.”

The world changes. Sometimes we can affect it. Sometimes we can’t. I gave my phone number, my email address, and other contact information to Michelle. I enjoyed talking to her. She was one of those people I felt a connection with.

She’s also the reason I always take down the other person’s phone number and contact information when I give out mine to this day.

She never called me. Never emailed me. I don’t mind never seeing a copy of all the pictures people took with my friends, myself, and their families. I was deeply disappointed that we would never talk again.

Do you remember me Michelle? The boy you had a quiet talk with at two AM at the pizza shop near Times Square late one night in May 2005?

He remembers you. He hopes that maybe, someday, you read this or a friend or a family member of yours does and asks you about it. He hopes. But he doesn’t expect that to happen. He stopped believing in miracles a long time ago.

I’ll never forget you Michelle. I hope you never forget me.