In third grade, a classmate named Mark tripped me. I fell on my right knee. I’ve never forgotten it, because I’ve had trouble with that knee ever since. I recently (a week ago) took a bad fall, and once again landed on that knee. I’ve landed on that knee many many times since I was eight. I also sprained my left ankle in the fall.
So I was thinking about this guy, and how I’ve never really forgiven him for his deliberate trip. And I’ve never forgotten him either. So I thought his name was unique enough to give it a try. And I found him.
He is still in Ithaca. He helps rescue animals. He is a fireman. He seems to be happily married.
It is so weird to be able to find an old nemesis living a good life, clearly being a good person, contributing to the world.
I forgive you Mark. I’m sorry you were an 8 year old boy who purposely hurt me. It isn’t an uncommon thing. I wonder what you would think that I have cursed you regularly, with each fall I’ve taken on that knee, a pattern you initiated 45 years ago.
Have a great life. The next time I fall on my knee, I will think of you and this odd connection we have so many years later.
Should I send you a message, Mark?