Filed under: Small Things That Take on Epic Proportions
I checked out a bunch of books on death and dying for a research paper this evening. They clunked heavily in my bag against my thigh as I walked back to the car.
Now I’m sitting at the kitchen table. I’ve just opened the book on the top of the pile: “On Grief and Grieving” by Kubler-Ross and Kessler.
A 4×5″-sized school portrait lies loosely on the title page, covering up the words, “Finding the Meaning of Grief Through the Five Stages of Loss.” Against a red background, a cute Elementary-school aged girl smiles sweetly back at me. Her hair is blond and chin length. She’s wearing a blue polka-dotted dress.
I wonder how this photograph ended up in this book. Why it’s still in this book.
I take it out and hold it gingerly in my hands. I turn it around, hoping for clues, but nothing is written except that it’s printed on “Professional Color Paper.”
Perhaps I’m delving into much more than I realize with this subject.
Filed under: Automatic-Judgment-Reflex, Belize, Small Things That Take on Epic Proportions
The unpaved street leading to the bank was dark and empty. A few streets away bicyclists rolled smoothly over the dips in the road and vacationers examined restaurant menus trying to decide on a meal.
I slid my credit card through the reader next to the ATM’s door. My boyfriend pulled it open and we were sucked into a blast of air-conditioning. As I was stuffing several hundred Belizean dollars into my wallet, I noticed a kid waiting outside the glass door.
He was a teenager and dressed in the gangster or thug style so popular today. Loose pants hanging well below the hips and revealing the color and print of his boxers. He wore a doo-rag on his head.
I tensed up and clutched onto my backpack. As I walked through the door I felt embarrassed by my fear and I smiled at the boy.
Our eyes locked briefly as he shot me the most beautiful and genuine smile. It was the kind of smile that could do no wrong. The kind of smile that makes the world a better place.
It’s so hard to turn off the automatic judgment reflex in myself. I was humbled to have been proven so utterly wrong by a simple smile.
Filed under: Sunday
Finally, I’m here at the springs again. I lie on my stomach on my towel on the grass. My wet hair drips onto the paper I am reading for Social Justice on white privilege. “It’s finally good barbecue weather,” says a friend happily. We all collectively sigh and inhale the air. It’s late afternoon and the sun has turned friendly. I underline a sentence in blue ink and turn to my boyfriend. “I guess we should be leaving soon,” I say.
We’ll ride home on his scooter. I will continue accidentally bumping my helmet into his. Clunk, “Ooops, sorry,” clunk, “Ooops, sorry,” clunk. Feeling the breeze grazing my skin, everything will be full of anticipation.
