I was walking down the street today a chocolate chip cookie in one hand and a mocha in the other. The weather was pleasantly warm, I was in a good mood, wearing my holiest and most comfortable pair of jeans. It doesn’t get better than this.
I was blissfully walking and not paying attention to a thing in the world when I noticed this black guy staring at me. He was staring at me hardcore and for the life of me I couldn’t figure out where I knew him from. He looked incredibly familiar. Did I tutor him? Did I fix his computer? How did I know him?
And then after I passed him, I realized, it was KyJah.
I hadn’t seen KyJah since June. His dreadlocks are gone. The man who had never cut his hair in his life looked like he got a buzz cut a month or two ago and hadn’t brushed his hair since, it was really nappy. He looked so much shorter, so much younger, chubbier and less maintained. By “less maintainedâ€Â, I can’t completely explain other than to say he was wearing sweatpants and a sweatshirt two things I’d never seen him wear, not even to capoeira.
It was really weird seeing him and realizing that I had failed to recognize him. Someone I was friends with and so very regularly saw and yet I didn’t recognize them on the street. It’s left me questioning my interactions with a lot of people. Will I ever run into someone on the street who once meant a great deal more to me than KyJah ever had and not be able to tell them apart from any other stranger? Why didn’t he say hello? Did he not recognize me, the same way I had failed to recognize him?