As we grow older, we begin to forget people we met once or twice in our lifetime.

Their faces may linger in our memory, but their names—and where we met them—fade away.

But somehow, you still know you’ve seen them before. Their face tells you that!

And today, it happened.

I knew I knew him from somewhere!

I remembered him being much younger the last time I saw him. But I couldn’t recall when, or where, or even who he was.

So, I passed by—thinking, like always, Just another crazy déjà vu. Another face that looks familiar…

But deep inside, I knew I had seen him before.

He, however, remembered me… and came after me, offering me a deal:
To dance.

And as I watched him trying to gently accommodate my poverty, it came back to me—I remembered where I knew him from.

Once upon a time… long, long ago…

On a wintry night, someone played Schumann on the piano like no one else could.

I was so captivated by the music that I followed the sound, weaving through halls until I found a small, forgotten room tucked between stacks of broken chairs and old tables.

And there he was—the young boy.

Playing Schumann as if it were heaven itself.

Afraid to speak, but pouring out his soul through the keys.

I sat with him for a while, told him how wonderful his playing was—told him that to play piano like that, he didn’t need to be Shakespeare.

Years passed. I never saw him again—forgot our little encounter like one forgets the details of a dream.

But for him, it seems… it was enough.

I didn’t recognize him. He had grown up—no longer shy, and now he speaks Shakespeare, haha!

And I?

I’m old, poor, and broke—and still don’t care much for Shakespeare! LOL

But he remembered me.

He ran after me when I couldn’t afford the price of a dance ticket, and offered me a discount.

And then—I recognized him.

The Schumann boy.

God truly has his ways of bringing people together.

I said yes to the dance… but I didn’t go back.

I was ashamed—of my age, my poverty… and mostly, I felt too uncomfortable to dance.

How could I dance ?

But thank you—for Schumann.

Thank you for your kind soul—for not forgetting me.

Granny,
The dancer who didn’t dance.