Saying goodbye and thanking people is so important that I actually become anxious when I don’t do it.

My 2nd grade teacher at the Seattle-area school I attended was named Mrs. Haydon. She was smart and thoughtful. She encouraged me scholastically and I represented the entire 2nd grade during a school-wide spelling bee. Most of all, she exposed me to different cultures. Mrs. Haydon’s family was Japanese.

I didn’t like doing art projects in general, but we did neat crafts in her class. We put a pile of wet ink on white and pink paper and by blowing gently threw a straw, I would watch the ink flow and wiggle into delicate and graceful shapes.

I loved Mrs. Haydon. She was so unique.

Just a few minutes after the last school bell rang to signal the start of summer vacation, I rushed back into the classroom. All my 40 pounds and three feet eight inches hugged her.

“Thank you, Mrs. Haydon.”

That wasn’t easy for me. I was actually a little uncomfortable hugging and thanking her. My immediate family wasn’t a physically affectionate one. Hugging and saying “I love you” wasn’t the norm.

But gosh I had to let Mrs. Haydon know she was special and good.

Nothing has changed.

My birthday was a few weeks ago and I went to Mexico for scuba diving.

My room mate was Beth. She was a stranger until we were set up as room mates.

After the last dive on the last day, we unloaded our heavy, wet and smelly gear off the boat.

I told Beth I would drive her back to our hotel room so we could start cleaning up for the six hour drive home.

I was pulling out of the marina parking lot when I froze.

“Oh my god. I didn’t say good-bye to the boat crew,” I said with shock.

Ernesto is the captain and Victor one of long-time crew members. I’ve known them three years. Oscar and Roberto are newer crew members.

They keep passengers safe, navigate the Sea of Cortez, spot dolphins, are good divers, prepare fresh food between dives, and sing little songs to me using my Spanish name. Plus, they tease me about the strange curve to my fins.

“I gotta go back, Beth.”

She was more than agreeable.

The gate arm had already fallen and I couldn’t drive again into the parking area. That was no deterrent. Beth and I walked to the landing.

I lept on to the Ocean Spirit.

“Mi capitan Ernesto! Adios!” I embraced and kissed Ernesto on the check.

“Victor! Mi guapo amigo! Adios.” I embraced and kissed Victor as well.

“Gracias gracias. Adios,” I told Oscar and Roberto and hugged them.

They all called me by my Spanish name and said sweet words.

“Good idea,” Beth said about my decision to go back onboard. We were back in the car.

I sighed with relief and turned the ignition. I had tears in my eyes.

I simply must tell beloved people how special they are.

None of us should miss those chances.