I miss you still. I miss the weird and wacky things you did, while you were in Tewksbury. You kept everyone off balance a little, and I think it was good for everyone who could appreciate it.
I also miss the outlet you gave me. I have always preferred to write to real people rather than to a journal (this is not going to be a surprise to my LJ readers, I think), and writing to you about the last year and a half of high school helped me put it into perspective for myself. I never really knew if you read the letters, and if you liked what I had to say. Jen and Diane always said you were glad to hear from me, and meant to write back, and so I kept writing. It makes sense to believe them - they probably would have either gently let me down, or just not bothered at all, if what they said hadn't been the truth. I guess one never really knows, when you come right down to it.
I remember clearly saying goodbye to you during the intermission for Sound of Music. I knew then, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that I would never see you again. Everyone thought that was foolish - you included, by all reports. Even so, I never did. I know you made it to Wizard of Oz; I think I may even have spotted you in the audience, but I can't be sure. And I assume you were at graduation. I hope so. But I never managed to find you in the crowd, or be in the right place at the right time.
For all that I don't think I'll ever re-encounter you, I still look for you every time I'm in Boston. Every time the door opens on the T, I scan the faces of the people getting on. My visual memory is so bad, I probably wouldn't know you even if I saw you. And after ten years - the important ten years, no less - where would I even begin? Which leads me to a question I think I want to address separately....