I saw him. He is still the same.
Looked at him once or twice while I was in his house. I had a doubt if he still lived. I'd gone there with my grandmother. Gave him a smile, but it seemed I smiled at everyone so no one noticed or knew that it was different. I knew. As if in that one smile or look I was searching, crying inside for a flicker of recognition.
Does he remember me? I'll never know. It seems time never moved for him. He ain't changed a bit. But I've grown. I've changed in multitudes. I never talked with him then. I didn't talk with him today. I'll never talk with him.
Does his mind even register me? He smiled at me. And my heart gave a wrenching wail. I wanted to shake him up and ask, "Tell me you know me. Tell me that you remember me and recognize me as the fair, most sought after princess in our neighbourhood. Tell me that you remembered me as a child and that you remembered me each time I came. Tell me something. Tell me I exist. "
Who am I kidding? He was mentally disabled. I don't know what his mind registered. And yet I'll never forget him, his face, that smile. How I wish... Its so strange. I wanted him to tell me/convince me I exist.
Wish I was a kid again and I could talk with him and no one would have raised an eyebrow.
