Yesterday and last Wednesday, I took Tony and DeeDee out to a friend's farm to ride horses. There, I met several other ladies and their kids, some of whom are also home schooled. One lady in particular, Heidi, seemed vaguely familiar to me, but I couldn't quite place where I had seen her before. She was just as puzzled. Turns out we live about six blocks from each other, but that wasn't where we had met.
We finally shrugged it off and enjoyed the reason we'd gotten together; to have the kids ride horses, to share a meal and to fellowship together.
We went back yesterday for more. Again, Heidi and her kids were there. We talked about this and that, about Pathfinders (think scouts) and the choir, while the kids took their turns on the horse.
Once we all met inside for dinner, Heidi finally asked me, "Is your maiden name (gave maiden name)?"
A bit surprised, I told her it is.
"Did you go to (name of college)?"
I did.
"My name is Heidi (gave maiden name)."
Instantly I knew her. We were both education majors, though I think she was a year behind me. We took several classes together. We were never very close friends, but knew of each other.
Today, as I shared my experience with my neighbor friend, I shared my thoughts and recollections of Heidi's husband when she told me who he was. (Let's just say he rubbed more than one person the wrong way twenty years ago in school. I didn't tell Heidi that, of course.) It got me to thinking, though. What recollections and memories does she have of me? While I would like to think that I was open and friendly with everyone, I did have a tight circle of friends from the radio station I worked at. We did a lot of stuff together, most every weekend. Whether it was a Saturday movie and pizza at someone's house to snow mobiling in the mountains in the winter; concerts in the spring and car washes and community services activities in the summer - we were always doing something.
I know the only thing I can do know is not worry about the past, but just be as open and friendly as I can be now.
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