The year was 2003. I, a shy thirteen year old, had recently moved to a new school. Remember that part about being shy? Yes, well, I was not one to "just" make friends. People my age have never been my jam. However, what I am good at, is making friends with the older folk. Perhaps its because my mother was thirty-five years older than me and I spent a lot of time around her friends. Maybe it was because I felt more mature than my peers. Whatever the reason was, it led me to making friends with an English teacher.
See, my uncle worked at the school I transferred to. He arrived earlier than most of the other staff, and since I rode with him, so did I. After we got there in the morning (early, I may add), I would wait by the door of my favorite teacher.
I would help him set up his class (with the door open, of course because we aren't about to get the man arrest, okay?). We would talk about the homework, the day, and random things.
The thing I remember most about him was he was a coffee fanatic. And I mean addicted, in the best way (of course). He would come to school with a large thermos of coffee, finish it before school began, and promptly set the coffee pot near his desk. His classroom always smelled like coffee. (Maybe thats where I learned the habit...)
Another thing that keeps him in my mind is he helped me cultivate my writing. Every assignment we had, he would keep as "future reference" for other students. Now, I'm not sure I was that good, but it made me think I was. And to this day, I think back on that when I get down about my writing. I remember that he enjoyed what I wrote. And he encouraged me to keep going.
So, if you're reading this Mr. Hollis, I did it. I have written books. I hope you would be proud of me and what I have written. Because of you, I want to keep writing. You helped me believe in myself and for that, I will always be grateful.
PS. I'll be sending you a bill for my Starbucks addiction, soon.
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