Blush and Cringe

Here is a little known fact about me. I have a somewhat photographic memory. It's bizarre and unsettling in some ways. In other ways it comes in handy. Mostly it's bizarre and unsettling.

Since having children, some of those memory cells have either died off or become more concentrated on keeping my children alive in spite of having me as their mother, but every so often this quality pops up.

My specialty is people. One year I worked as a counselor at a brand new junior high school. My assignment was all of the 8th grade students and one third of the 7th grade students. In all, I had approximately 600 students. A few of them caught on that I knew their names. All of them. What they didn't know is that I knew their quirks. Those are the things that stick with me. I'll eventually forget their names but I never forget their stories. 

Kind of like a savant only cute.

Alecia had school anxiety and cried every day in my office for the first month. She also liked denim and sunflowers. 

Jasmine loved the color purple and wore long skirts. 

Tanya's sister was walking on a railroad track listening to her walkman and didn't hear the train when it came behind her. 

Curt's father probably murdered his mother and Curt was scared to go home one day. I remember every detail of our conversation, the color of the caseworker's tie, the sweet, tired smile of the grandmother who opened her home (eventually permanently) to Curt and his brothers. His dad golfed a lot and was an alcoholic. 

Natalie's mom tried homeschooling for part of the year. She baked me cookies and whispered that the secret ingredient was coconut. Her brother was diagnosed with Tourettes the year before. 

Mrs. Baker's parents were polygamists.

Those random details are in my head. When I see a face from my past, these are the identifiers inside my mind. Mostly I have learned to filter details going in. Mostly I have learned to filter details going out. Mostly.

Cafe Rio giving my order while in line, I glance at the woman on my left. Her face is familiar. The synapses fire and random facts surface within a few seconds. Kind of like Chuck only not nearly as cool or orderly and they come in pictures; dinner parties at the Norton's, pasta with Alfredo sauce and mushrooms, outside, beautiful, dark haired toddler, wife had an affair, husband went to cosmetology school, a conversation about children, she wore red shorts...

While grabbing napkins and straws, I asked if she knew the Nortons. She looked a little taken aback. I placed myself at a couple of dinner parties 18 years ago. That's when I dropped the filter. "Oh! Is this your daughter? She's all grown up! Morgan. Her name is Morgan! Peaches! Her dad used to call her Peaches!"

The woman kept a smile on her face, although it dropped just a fraction and her eyes registered alarm. Subconsciously, she reached for her daughter's arm and took a small step backward. Too late I realized how creepy I sounded. 

We awkwardly ended the interaction and I silently berated myself for thinking out loud. 

Imagine if I was a guy.