I haven't seen you in years now, and I don't know where you are or how I could find you if I wanted to. I don't even know if you remember me. I knew you when I was a lonely ten year-old, when the library was still magical and books were my only friends, before I learned it was uncool to be too smart. You were my refuge and my escape.
You were always so kind. You'd bring me cookies while my brother was in his preschool story group, and let me eat them in the break room with you. You would take me aside and say, "I think you would really like this book," because you knew the books I loved.
I came in one day and told you that I had decided I was going to learn about everything. You didn't laugh, but you grinned and said, "Let me know how it goes."
Sometimes you'd catch my gaze when the building was crowded with students, and you'd roll your eyes and just laugh. And I'd laugh too, because your good humor was contagious.
I remember one day I had checked out a book about space, and I was talking to you about it. You said, "Someday are you going to be an astronaut?" I said, "No. I would love to, but I'm not good enough at math." You looked straight at me, and said passionately, "You can do anything you want to do." You held my gaze for a second, to make sure I understood how serious you were.
I understood, and I loved you for it. I knew you were confident in me, even if I was not. And I've held on to that faith you gave me all these years.
The three of you were so kind to me. You hold a very dear place in my heart. Where ever you are now, I pray that God blesses you; you were His blessing to me.
The point of this letter is this: I won a national poetry contest. I am going to be published, and maybe by some strange chance you'll happen to see my name. Even if you don't remember me, I hope you like the poem. Because you were the three people I most wanted to tell.
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