Someone was contacting me. I saw the name. Hmmm. I had an English teacher in high school with that name. She was one of my favorite teachers of all time. Sophomore year? Junior year? I couldn't remember. I did remember she always dressed so nicely. I remembered we read The Scarlet Letter and The Canterbury Tales. I remember memorizing the first stanza (at least) of the Prologue in Middle English and performing it. I loved how it sounded. I loved how close to the modern version it sounded, only wound with some ancient thread. Reading that prologue was about as far away from the small desert town I lived in as you could get.
I finally got to open the note late afternoon. It was her. She is still teaching in California though not in the desert. Teaching for 37 years and still loving it from what I could read. I can imagine that pretty easily. She reminded me it was sophomore year. She still looks the same... smashing in a red evening gown.