Memory stamps

In grade 2, there was a little boy named Suchart in my class.  I don't remember his last name. I don't know who his best friend was in the class. In fact I can't remember a single thing about him...apart from that one day he decided to punch me in the arm to give me a dead arm. I did not like Suchart much.  Saying his name leaves a bad taste in my mouth to this day. 

That same year my teacher was a curly haired woman names Miss Leroca.  I don't know her first name. What I do know is she made me feel cared about. She taught us Italian and at the end of each day, she would say goodbye to each of us individually by either giving us a hug or a special handshake. 

I only knew both of these people for a year and never had any contact with them since, yet they have both carved a place in my memory. The only difference is one I remember fondly and the other.....not so much.

In grade 5 there was a boy named Fabian Shields. He 'flashed' my friend and I in the gymnasium. 

I can recall my class ratbags by full name.  In year 6 it was Jason Anderson. In year 7 it was Matt Reid (to name a few). We had a really nice teacher in year 7 named Mrs Roberts. I accidentally called her 'Mum' once. She was wearing a beige skirt one day and it must have been 'that time if the month' for her. She got up to write on the board and Matt decided to play innocent and embarrass her by loudly announcing that she must have sat in tomato sauce somehow. He laughed and cheered as she ran out the room and came back an hour later in a different outfit.

I didn't have all that much to do with these kids, but they were certainly difficult to like.

I had known Anthony less that a few months before I was pretty certain I wanted him around for good.  He made me happy. I liked the way I felt about myself when I was with him. Actually he made an impact on me even earlier....how could he not when he picked me up for our first real date in a Milo promotional van!

Both our sons made their impact on me the minute I laid my pethadine laced eyes on them. My mind was all foggy from the general anesthesia, but I knew I loved them like crazy and I wanted to spend my life making sure they knew it. 

 My memories of people are usually attached to some sort of memory, either positive or negative. I guess we don't need to be in someone's life for long to make some sort of lasting impact.  Or more importantly, we need not be in someone's life long to make an impact for good.