Remembrance

The little girl in the coffee shop was beautiful. She had thick straight blonde hair and beautiful pale blue eyes. She stared at me over her mother's shoulder while we waited in line, and suddenly, a huge grin broke across her chubby face. It wasn't a normal grin. Not a child who has not yet learned not to trust strangers, but a grin of recognition. I felt it. For some reason, as that beautiful blonde child smiled so warmly at me, I got the deepest feeling that she knew me. She recognized me and I, in my twenty some odd years since infancy, had forgotten her.

Her mother ordered and received her coffee and I placed my order and left. But I couldn't shake the feeling that that child had known me. And I felt sad that I could not remember her.