How I’d Like to be Remembered

As I grow older, I often think about how I want to be remembered: for the art I make, for the poems I write, for the work I’ve done for over four decades.  Yes, all of that.  But this past weekend I was reminded about what is most important to me.  Last Saturday, my husband and I were looking for a second car.  We wanted something pre-owned that didn’t have all the bells and whistles, an SUV to tote our bikes and my husband’s multiple skateboards. We saw an ad for a Honda Pilot so I called the dealership and made an appointment with the young women who answered the phone.  When I arrived, I walked into the sun-filled showroom.  Emma, the young woman at the end of the room, stood up and pointed at me in surprise.

            “I know you! We know each other!” she said enthusiastically.

            I searched her face for something familiar.  I looked at her large green eyes, “Yes!” I said, “I’m a teacher.  You look so familiar to me too!”

            Emma shouted, “You were my teacher, but you’re not a real teacher.”

            I laughed, “Right.  I’m a learning specialist.”

            Emma got up and introduced me to all the salespeople in the showroom.  She had been one of my students twenty years ago, and she remembered me.  We both were so excited to meet each other again.  She told me what she has been doing since she graduated high school and college, and I told her that I was still working at the same school.

            Then she showed me the car, and I went for a test drive. It was in good shape, but nearly fifteen years old, so we were probably going to pass on it.  When I returned to the showroom, Emma greeted me again with a smile, “You know, when you walked in, I immediately recognized you. You have not changed a bit.”

            “Thank you, but I’m sure I have more wrinkles, more gray hair, and more pounds,” I chuckled.

            “You know what?  When you walked in, the first thing that came into my mind was: ‘She was very kind.  She was the kindest teacher there.’

            I laughed.

            “You are kind, right?” Emma asked.

            “Yes, I’m kind.  I’ve worked hard to be kind. I think that is the number one job of a teacher – to be kind. When teachers were kind to me, I learned things much easier and learning was fun.”

            Soon, it was time to  exchange contact information and I told her I’d let her know about the car.

            “Bye,” Emma said walking me to the door.

            “It was so nice to meet you again, Emma,” I said hugging her, “I’m so glad you remembered me as kind.  It is the thing I most strive to be.

            So, besides the art and poetry and teaching, what is most important for me to be remembered for is kindness.  Kindness is what’s most  important to me.  That a former student could look at me twenty years later and think “very kind” is the best compliment I could ever receive. It brought tears to my eyes and joy to my heart. You never know what the day will bring.  I am so grateful and blessed that this past Saturday I got reacquainted with Emma and she saw me as someone positive, someone who was very kind to her. It is the exact way I’d like to be remembered – very kind.