So last night I was eating chocolates and doing crossword puzzles with my aunt when I thought about how so many of my aunt's mannerisms remind me of little things my Mom used to do, things I had not even thought of in years. You know it was just simple stuff, like the way her hands moved- things you never would have thought are important. It got me thinking about how little quirks and unconscious gestures are what personify someone as who they are in your memory. I think it is important to appreciate these little characteristics because you will never find them anywhere else.
As I reached to unwrap my Hershey’s kiss, I wondered how many times I had entered into this simple overlooked routine. I peeled the foil back to reveal a little hint of brown goodness. Then, grasping the other side of the foil with the little message tag, I removed the foil completely, leaving that distinct circle outline, where the candy was so recently protected by silver lining. The kiss now lay naked in my hand. As always, I bit off the pointy tip, so that the kiss could fit easily on my tongue without stabbing the roof of my mouth. Ideal consumption! As I let the kiss melt in my mouth I smiled, satisfied by the joy of life’s simple pleasures. I wondered whether it would be little traditions such as this one that I would pass on to my children. Mere mimicking that would unknowingly carry a little bit of myself into their lives: an unspoken legacy.
Saturday, August 2, 2008
Friday, August 1, 2008
Forgiveness?
Eve Carson.
Those two words are enough to stop any UNC student in his or her tracks. For a few moments, whatever past conversation that was being had is forgotten. Newspaper articles, candle light vigils, frightening images conjured by an active imagination- they all blur before nearly misty eyes. Even today, the mention of her name makes my chest tighten and my eyes burn. The unfairness of it all is overwhelming. I feel angry and helpless. But most of all, I struggle to understand. My frustration is unfathomable.
From what I describe, you might believe Eve was a close friend of mine. The truth is that we never met.
It is a common occurrence now that upon meeting someone new and telling them where I attend school, one of the first questions asked is "did you know that girl?" Though these people I meet are only curious, sympathetic even, I can see the question carries very little weight for them. The slight pause before my response always reveals this difference. While they are able to stare back, waiting patiently for a response that they hope will stimulate typical day to day conversation, I sit on the other side mustering the strength to separate myself from the burden the question has placed in the pit of my stomach. After allowing myself to say her name, it is then difficult for me to say no, I did not know her, because I still feel so close to her. How can I feel close to someone I never met? I wish I could explain it to you. But when I try to describe the atmosphere of our campus in the aftermath, how that single tragic event shook our entire school, my attempts fall far short of reality. It is interesting how such a tragedy can bond people together.
How can I forgive those who committed these unspeakable crimes? They should not have even been out on the streets. So who's fault is it really? But hate, hate is a powerful thing. When talking with one man about the whole situation, his response was "Well if you didn't belive in capital punishment before, then now..." I wasn't sure how to respond to this comment. I am never comfortable with the idea of taking a life in any form. I do not feel like that is choice I, or any other human has been given the privledge to make. However, at that moment, I did, I hated them and I wanted them to "get what they deserved".
I know I have to let it go. Letting the anger build will never solve anything. For now, I just try to do what I can to try to immitate, in my own small part, the vast and wonderful influence Eve had on the people and world around her. Though she had fewer years than many, I know Eve led a full life, and touched more people than i can count. I am proof of this statement; Eve has already made me a better person. I believe that is how I feel close to her. Eve is in my actions, and I will never forget how she opened my eyes to living every day as if it were my last. That is how I can battle this injustice- not with hate, but with life.
Those two words are enough to stop any UNC student in his or her tracks. For a few moments, whatever past conversation that was being had is forgotten. Newspaper articles, candle light vigils, frightening images conjured by an active imagination- they all blur before nearly misty eyes. Even today, the mention of her name makes my chest tighten and my eyes burn. The unfairness of it all is overwhelming. I feel angry and helpless. But most of all, I struggle to understand. My frustration is unfathomable.
From what I describe, you might believe Eve was a close friend of mine. The truth is that we never met.
It is a common occurrence now that upon meeting someone new and telling them where I attend school, one of the first questions asked is "did you know that girl?" Though these people I meet are only curious, sympathetic even, I can see the question carries very little weight for them. The slight pause before my response always reveals this difference. While they are able to stare back, waiting patiently for a response that they hope will stimulate typical day to day conversation, I sit on the other side mustering the strength to separate myself from the burden the question has placed in the pit of my stomach. After allowing myself to say her name, it is then difficult for me to say no, I did not know her, because I still feel so close to her. How can I feel close to someone I never met? I wish I could explain it to you. But when I try to describe the atmosphere of our campus in the aftermath, how that single tragic event shook our entire school, my attempts fall far short of reality. It is interesting how such a tragedy can bond people together.
How can I forgive those who committed these unspeakable crimes? They should not have even been out on the streets. So who's fault is it really? But hate, hate is a powerful thing. When talking with one man about the whole situation, his response was "Well if you didn't belive in capital punishment before, then now..." I wasn't sure how to respond to this comment. I am never comfortable with the idea of taking a life in any form. I do not feel like that is choice I, or any other human has been given the privledge to make. However, at that moment, I did, I hated them and I wanted them to "get what they deserved".
I know I have to let it go. Letting the anger build will never solve anything. For now, I just try to do what I can to try to immitate, in my own small part, the vast and wonderful influence Eve had on the people and world around her. Though she had fewer years than many, I know Eve led a full life, and touched more people than i can count. I am proof of this statement; Eve has already made me a better person. I believe that is how I feel close to her. Eve is in my actions, and I will never forget how she opened my eyes to living every day as if it were my last. That is how I can battle this injustice- not with hate, but with life.
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