Not Forgotten

I had a great holiday week, but I have to be honest and admit that I’m glad it’s over, only because I am exhausted from the going and doing that accompanies it. I got to see a few friends that I rarely get to spend time with, including my high school best friend that I haven’t seen in about seventeen years, and that was beyond wonderful. However, catching up with friends, spending time with family, and good times abounding can wear you out. To start the new week, I went to Florence, AL today and donated my time working at the Help Center. It’s part of my pay it forward mentality I’ve adopted these days. Plus, I feel like for every charitable deed I do, maybe I can atone for past sins.

Typically, after a bout of good-deed-doing, I get a warm, fuzzy feeling all over. Today, I did not. Maybe it was the cold, rainy weather, or perhaps fatigue from the recent week’s activities, but as I drove home after my volunteer shift, I couldn’t help but feel rather melancholy. Perhaps it was knowing that I really didn’t do anything special and that for most of the people that came in today, their problems are much larger than anything I can fix. They leave with groceries and possibly a couple bags of clothes, but not much else. There were stories of those who can’t find work, or a house that recently burnt, or bad health that leaves them unable to keep a steady job. A brown paper bag full of canned food isn’t going to fix that.

Or maybe my depressing mood was because today only served as a reminder that life isn’t easy, and the solutions to everyday problems are often more complicated than anything that can be fixed in one day. Or sometimes even, in one year. This past Thanksgiving, as I was be-bopping up my cousin’s walkway, arms full with a casserole, tea and a few bottles of wine, it occurred to me that the Thanksgiving prior to this one, was a much different story. I wasn’t carrying wine or a casserole. As a matter of fact, I had to have help just getting out of the car. I can remember pulling into the driveway, popping a pain pill, and waiting for the wave to pass before attempting to get of the passenger seat. And throughout dinner, I barely moved. At times it’s easy to forget that. It’s easy to forget how bad things were, during a period in life when things seem better. But I do not want to forget. Ever.

As I stood at the counter of a gas station this afternoon, waiting on my friend to finish pumping gas so we could pay for it, an older gentlemen turned to me and said (as I stood staring out the window) that I had a faraway look fitting for a rainy day. I smiled at him, and he smiled back. Then, as he was walking out the door, he turned around and smiled at me again. There was something about that smile. It was one of those knowing smiles. A smile that says, “I understand.” “I’ve been there before.” The truth is, we all have been there at one time or another. The trick is to not forget it. When we lose ourselves in the commonality of everyday living, it becomes easy to take these moments for granted. It’s only when we make a conscious effort to remember the pain from our past, that we can embrace our present and make purposeful our future.