Yearbook Lifeline

Dusty box,

forgotten corners,

a stack of papers,

then the stiff cover,

my name in silver,

peeling.

The yearbook.

Flipping pages,

faces I almost recall,

then the scrawled notes.

Most were bland,

'Have a great summer!'

'Don't change!'

But then,

on the back page,

from a hand I recognized,

but not the words,

not until now.

It said, just a line,

underlined twice,

'You matter more than you think.'

Faded blue ink,

a smudge near the 't'.

And I remembered that summer,

how I didn't think I mattered

at all.

It sits in my hand,

a small, quiet weight.

Still matters.