Have you ever thought repeatedly about someone that you haven’t seen in a long time, and wondered why that individual kept coming to mind?

On my walking route in the evenings, I pass by a home where one of my childhood friends lived. I’m not sure if any part of her family still lives there or not, but whenever I pass by it, I vow to look her up.

A while ago, I finally tried. I can find nothing about her, and very little about her mom — assuming her mom’s remarried last name back in the 80s is still the same today. I remember going to Angels games, maybe to Disneyland once or twice and helping her mom fold laundry in their living room. Towels, actually — we folded towels. And I wasn’t folding them the right away, apparently, because her mom would refold every towel that I’d just folded and handed to her.

It’s weird. I obviously think of them because the house that I pass is one that I used to visit, but then I think back to some of the summer camp pictures we have together and it interests me how some people just vanish from our lives. Not in a bad way, necessarily, just in a, “Hm, that’s interesting” kinda way.

Sometimes we do the vanishing, other times they do. In the end, it is what it is. Everything for a reason, everything has its own lifespan, and everything has an impact on us — regardless of whether that person is still around.

I think the impact she had on me was to not judge a book by its cover. Someone’s physical appearance can often times be 180-degrees different from what’s on the inside. So perhaps I’m not meant to find anything out about her and her life these days, but instead I’m meant to just remember her and promise to continue that lesson of not judging a book by its cover in my adult life, as well.

Tonight I am thankful for childhood memories, remembering lessons learned and realizing their validity and importance in my grown-up life, as well. Sometimes it’s less about reconnecting with someone on your mind, and more about keeping a long-ago lesson top of mind in the days, weeks and months to come.