I had never realized how incredibly shy I was until I saw him.

I was the kind of girl who would sit in the corner of the room by herself rather than attempt to strike up a conversation with anyone. Even people that I knew. I just couldn’t bring myself to raise my voice around them. A single word would slip out of my mouth, and my whole face would turn red like a tomato.

Being the most socially awkward person in the room all the time was always difficult for me. I had a hard time accepting that this was my life, and it constantly was.

It didn’t feel right, and it definitely didn’t feel like that was how I was supposed to be.

I just didn’t know that until I glimpsed him that day.

We were in general music – an elective class – and we were only seventh graders. Appearing as one of the youngest girls in school, I couldn’t help but feel out of place with my graphic t-shirts, ponytails so tight that I could feel my head throbbing, wearing no makeup whatsoever, and having new elongated spectacles that slid down my nose every time my head was downcast for more than a second.

But he was a whole different person altogether. From his dark, mischievous brown eyes to his astounding skills on the basketball court, he was one of the most popular boys in school.

He had just been handed a bright orange colored folder and was instructed to write his name on the cover of it. So, seizing the folder out of Mrs. Larsen’s outstretched hand, he thanked her sincerely. Once the markers were passed around to him, he carefully picked out the color of his choice.

Quietly and intently, I watched as he scribbled his first name down on the cover, smiling with satisfaction and holding it out for his friends to examine.

Turning back to my own, plain folder, I waited silently for someone generous enough to hand me a marker, too afraid to ask for one myself. It took a long time, but when I finally obtained one, I attempted to thank the person who had given it to me. However, all that came out was something that could only be translated as, “Ohmn hnm”.

So, cursing myself for being so shy and socially constipated, I uncapped the potent smelling sharpie and neatly printed my first and last name on the folder, along with the number I was assigned. I couldn’t help but think about how many times I had clammed up when I had tried to converse with even a single soul, and I started to feel my face heat up from embarrassment.

Laugher pulled me out of my contemplations, and I curiously turned to see what everyone was snickering about.

When my head was rotated enough to see him sitting in his chair, I realized that it was him they were all laughing at.

He was frantically scribbling a messy depiction of the BYU logo on his folder right below his name, cheeks jiggling as his hand went to work, shaking vigorously.

A small dimpled grin spread across his face, and I pondered why he was smiling while everyone in the oversized classroom was giggling at him. He was the laughing stock of the entire music class! And yet, he didn’t care. He just smiled - a smile like a glowing candle that could warm the coldest heart. 

I soon found myself grinning, and I didn’t fully understand why. I didn’t know this boy; I had never seen him before in my life! So why? Why was I smiling?

It only took a split second for me to understand that this was what I was waiting for. I needed to see this. Because this was what I wanted to be.

Seeing him sitting in that chair, so nonchalant – even with all the laughter around him – not caring what others thought of him and just being himself . . . that’s how I wanted to be. That’s how I should be. I just hadn’t known it until then.

I stared at my other classmates, all laughing and having a grand time. Even the teacher let out the slightest hint of a muffled snicker. I continued to smile with my fellow students, and an unrecognizable feeling spread throughout my chest.

For the first time, I actually felt like I belonged.

I returned to decorating the front of my orange folder, not wanting to mess it up in any way possible. I desired to engrave my feeling of blissful joy into the cover of my file while it lasted. That way, whenever I caught sight of the image, my spirit would be lifted up by the memory of portraying my cheerfulness into the folder.
After that brief moment in time, I couldn’t help but look forward to attending that class every day. Because I knew that every time I walked through that door and saw him standing there, there was a guaranteed smile hidden under the soft pink ribbons of my lips.

The two of us never really had a one-on-one conversation together, but the next weeks that past were full of laughter, merriment, and joy. Although there were some aggravated teachers that were sick of listening to him rant on about silly stories and jokes all the time, he brought happiness into other people’s lives, and I couldn’t resist smiling or laughing whenever he was around.

He had that strange, unexplainable light around him that made him who he was. He could crack a single joke, and the entire room would lift up and join together in laughter, bringing the good out in everyone.

The semester ended, and I have to say I was a bit disappointed that he wasn’t in any of my classes anymore. But that didn’t change the fact that he had made a huge impact on my life. Even though I rarely ever saw him, I carried some of him around with me, and I still do to this day.

I feel like I could talk to anyone without blushing from embarrassment, I could say anything, and wouldn’t care if people laughed. Because I wanted them to laugh. I wanted to see their smiles and be able to know that I was the reason it was permanently plastered to their faces. I wanted to hear the bells of joy that each individual radiated, see the light in their eyes as their lips curled into an ecstatic grin, and know that I was the one who brought that into their lives. I wanted them to have a taste of merriment . . . and then spread that feeling to everyone they feasibly could.

I feel as if I could speak to anyone with definite casualty.

Everyone except him. Him . . . the boy in my choir class that changed my life for the better, who helped me become who I am today, and who practically ripped me out of my shell without even knowing it. He was the only one . . . the only one I ever became shy around. The only one I couldn’t speak to like a regular human being.

So to this day . . . I silently thank him, and mentally prepare myself for the future conversation we one day might obtain.

We’ve never exchanged enough words for me to let him know just how much I appreciate his unique gift and personality.

But maybe one day he’ll understand.

I hope one day he’ll understand.
He changed my view on life. Made me realize that I needed to reach out to others instead of hiding away, all alone, with no one to sit by. He shaped my life into a magnificent masterpiece and impacted my life in a way that no one else ever had. He turned me into a better person, and made me appreciate and understand how I truly acted and felt.

I will forever look up to him . . . and I will forever be in his debt.