Last night, several of my friends and I went to a park in San Mateo to watch the fireworks. I bumped into a former boyfriend who I hadn’t seen in many years. When I said, “I’m Terry from Guildford Avenue,” the same street he lived on, my comment was met with a blank stare. Our interaction was a bit awkward particularly since my friends were listening to us. Back in the day he went so far as to give me a ring that belonged to his mother. The ring had a purple stone set in a gold setting and it looked expensive and huge. I was uncomfortable having it in my possession. The next day, he regretted giving me the ring and he asked for it back. You’d think he’d remember that situation or our relationship or maybe even me. Perhaps I shouldn’t have assumed he’d remember the same things from third grade like I still do.