Remember Me?

She's watching me, smiling, like she knows me. Like I should know her. I don't have to tell you that I didn't have a clue who she was.

     "Hi, Miss Emma!" she calls, running over and hugging me.

     Awkwardly, I hug her back, still confused about who this young woman is. I've met plenty of people in my sixty years, but I remember them all.

     "Where's Mister Grant?" she questions.

     "Oh...uh, my husband passed away seven years ago," I stammer out, squinting at the pretty brunette in front of me. How does she know about my husband?!

     "I'm so sorry, Miss Emma. Also, I'm sorry to bring that up. But I came over to thank you." Once again, she's looking at me like I should know her. I don't.

     "Oh, uh...what for, dear?" I ask, since I can't remember her name.

     "You don't remember me, do you?" she teases. "Remember, twenty years ago, when you were teaching English; the rowdy one in the back who was causing...disruptions?"

     A vague memory surfaces. "Yes," I say, dragging the word out.

     "That was me. You were so firm and consistant with me, but gentle...it made an impression on me." She brushes away tears of gratefulness as she envelopes me in another hug. "You inspired me. Guess what I do for a living?"

     I haven't a clue, so she tells me.

     "I teach English," she grins. "There's a rowdy girl in the back. I haven't given up on her; just like you didn't give up on me."