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Mugging by Ion Moe


I checked this book out this morning from the library. I just turned the last page and was disappointed.

Not with the book…but that I didn’t get the ending I wanted. However the book was very good and would recommend it with all my heart.

It plays on the emotion of hope. Which is why I probably finished it in a day. Hoping to find out more about A’s life, hoping with Rhiannon, with the various people A encounters throughout his own life.

To say that this story is a deja vu for me would be an understatement. 

I had a summer job where I was a teachers aide to students who attended a summer program that focused on the arts. I was 17 at the time, my first job. I had just moved to this larger city from my small home town. So there was about a 99.9% chance that I wouldn’t know anyone at all.

It was the start of a new class and I had to check all the students in, give them a packet for the class, and give a professional welcome to deter them from my real age. I’ve just finished checking in a wave of students when this man walks near my table.

We both stare at each other trying to place the other. The feeling of recognition you have when you see the other person and you know you know them and will feel like a total ass when they remember you and you don’t remember them.

He approached me cautiously because I can tell he feels the exact same way. The uneasiness in his steps as he tries to prolong the moment until he reaches me. That maybe something will click at the last minute, the way my voice sounds as I wearily say ‘Hello’ to him, that will save him from embarrassment.

We both give up and say “Don’t I know you?”

I rack my brain trying to place where I know him from. I know him. Being only 17 and a relatively a good student—I didn’t go to many parties while in high school. Plus he was a little too old for my age group. I placed him to be around his early 30’s. He wasn’t any of my friend’s fathers. He wasn’t a friend to my older sister. He definitely wasn’t an old teacher I had.

But for some strange reason, it felt like I was in a class with him once before.

Both of us were kinda creeped out that we both knew each other but didn’t. We just nervously exchanged pleasantries and went about the day. We never talked again. The class was 2 weeks long and we never talked. Never explored the possibilities that maybe we did know each other, either in this life or another. I never gave it a second thought for some reason. It was just a fact. We both accepted it and moved on.

I don’t even remember his name. Nor can I remember his face now or even during class (it was only a class of about 15). It was like I recognized him for that day and then he disappeared. I even went as far as going through old pictures of the class, but he’s not there.

That was over 6 years ago and I still can shake the feeling when I remember that day. I can’t explain why I didn’t ask him more questions. It was like my mind already knew the answer but it was protecting me from it as well. Therefore accepted how to move on and just keeping moving like it wasn’t strange at all.

I guess I felt compelled to spill this out to the world of the blogs because I have that hope. The hope that maybe somewhere he’ll find this and we can figure out how we know each other. He could be my long lost brother, my best friend, my companion, my enemy, my lover, or just someone I saw in a coffee shop that stuck out.

Whatever the outcome, I still find it sort of magical that we had the opportunity to meet in the first place. “It’s a good note.”

I wish him and to whoever reads the end of this: love and light.


Walter White “Heisenberg” Illustration. Watercolors, inks, pastel pencil and acrylic pens. Prints | Facebook | Twitter | Tumblr | Portfolio

All the others, gone | Jenny Dolfen
Six hundred years ago, Finarfin watched his five children, granddaughter, two brothers, nine nephews*, and niece leave the Blessed Realm to wage war on a dark God in Beleriand.Now, six hundred years later, he finally enters Beleriand at the head of an Elven army to finally overthrow Morgoth… and finds that the only one left of those above is his daughter Galadriel. 
(Painted with coffe)