On a recent trip back to Leicester, John triumphantly recovered a box full of childhood memories from his dad's attic: school workbooks; a Thundercats figurine; a well-loved teddy, his ears misshapen and worn from too many nighttime snuggles with a small, fair-haired boy.
I patted the teddy and gave the stuffed owl an affectionate squeeze, but it was John's schoolwork that I pored over extensively. Fascinated by the insight it gave me into the person I knew and loved so much, I delighted in discovering his long, sloping cursive, written in mandatory blue fountain ink. I spent hours in front of the TV, on our couch at home, reading workbook after workbook - smiling at a teacher's encouraging feedback and frowning at grades I thought were unfair.
English workbooks from primary school revealed a sweet boy with a sense of humour and lovely imagination, harshly critiqued by a (possibly?) embittered teacher. I thumbed through pages and pages of physics and chemistry equations - equations that I hadn't even begun to ponder until my final year of high school, which he solved with precision at ages thirteen and fourteen. French conjugations painstakingly written and re-written, again and again.
This part of John - this part of his history - unlocked a part of him to me that I'd never known, but had been eager to meet.
This was him before me.
At times, I was overwhelmed with emotion, reading these workbooks. I laughed at the silly stories, marvelled at the difficult math problems, but most of all, I saw that he, i.e. the same person he is today, had always been there.
I saw a trajectory from childhood to adulthood that was so much more straightforward than mine, and therefore, interesting. As a child, then teen, then university student, my interests were varied and unfocused. I excelled at everything and nothing at once. John was different: focused, logical, and methodical. Especially talented in math and science. A lover of football. Popular. Fun. Loyal.
The box revealed all these things, and the revelation was amazing. It made me love him even more.
Have you ever wondered what your best friend, partner, or relative was like before you met them?
(My brother plays this great game with my dad after dinner ... we'll be sitting at the table and he'll ask, "Dad ... what were you doing in [inserts year]?" We learned so much about my dad from those stories!)
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