A story 41 years in the making
“A story 41 years in the making”
GUEST POST by TAMI KAMIN MEYER
My mind wandered on that dark, stormy Thursday afternoon in November, 1980, when I was a high school junior with a crush on my adorable boyfriend, Boris. We had met that past summer as performers in the 11th grade musical, always a silly performance that was a rite of passage at Walnut Hills High School in Cincinnati. I was a dancer and Boris was in the “horse chorus,” a group of junior boys who performed a silly dance dressed like girls which today would be considered sexist and demeaning.
As I sat in the school’s Little Theater during drama class that day, the incessant and insistent thumps of rain that seemed intent on halving the room’s metal roof echoed through my heart. The quick drumming of those raindrops reminded me of how my heart leapt with joy at seeing Boris, holding his hand, being his girl.
Suddenly, the words of a haiku poem flashed in my mind, so I quickly grabbed a sheet of paper from my notebook to write it down.
The raindrops falling
Remind me of my heartbeat
When I am with you.
Although I thought Boris would enjoy the haiku, I never mentioned it to him. Or anyone else, for that matter. No reason. I just didn’t.
Years later, Boris and I became friends on Facebook. We were both married with children and busy with our respective lives. We didn’t communicate for years on end.
Fast forward to June 2021.
My 40th high school reunion was set for the final weekend of the month, and, as recently as the second week of June, I had no intentions of going back to Cincinnati for the gathering. An old friend called to encourage me to attend. I told him in no uncertain terms I was not going, and that was that.
Two days later, one of my closest HS friends announced she was attending the reunion, and I realized I couldn’t be the only one in our posse not to go. I registered, and actually got excited at the prospect of reminiscing with my former classmates.
A week later, our reunion FB page announced that Boris, too, decided to go to the reunion himself. I immediately decided I was finally going to share the haiku with him at the reunion. I texted to tell him I had a surprise to share with him at our upcoming gathering, reassuring him that no, it doesn’t breathe, so it wasn’t that kind of a jolt.
Days before the reunion, Boris surprised me.
He reached out to check if I lived in Columbus because he happened to be driving through. We visited for hours, laughing at our youthful antics until our sides hurt.
I also shared the haiku poem I had written to and about him some 41 years earlier. By sheer happenstance, I had submitted it to a local anthology earlier in 2021, and the printed copy had just been released.
He was touched, and pleased, and I felt my heart patter quickly, much like the day I wrote him the poem. He whipped out his phone to take photos of the anthology and the haiku itself, promising to order the book, too.
The reunion followed a few days later, and it was one of the best weekends of my life. Until I saw all my former classmates in the hallway of our former school, I hadn’t realized what an accomplishment it was to make it to that day.
And, knowing how through writing I was able to bring joy to my dear friend Boris made the past 41 years feel like a simple turn of a page.
(c)Tami Kamin Meyer, 2021, all rights reserved
This essay first appeared in the July 2021 issue of Write Now Columbus. Subscribe here.
