Yesterday I was at my parents house and we were talking about a family friend who just recently found something out about an incident that happen almost forty years earlier. It was really rather funny, but wierd in that no one, not even the friend knew the whole story.
That got me thinking, everyone has past, funny, sad, good or bad, everyones got one.
The more I thought about it, the more I came to realize that my family has absolutly no idea who I am or the things I’ve done in my past. Oh they all think the know. They all buy into the “innocent good girl” image that I have carefully constructed around myself. Don’t get me wrong here, it’s nice to know that I’ve painted myself into such a believeable portrait, but sometimes I’m left wondering. . . . what if they new the truth?
They say that the truth frees us, it breaks through the walls of false pretens that we create to “protect” ourselves. And so I feel compelled to share a small part of my history, in hopes that the person I am will finally be able to rest, free from guilt.
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It happened on a cold dark night, as these things often do. I was sitting alone in my car thinking through what I was about to do. My good angel was perched on one shoulder logically pleading her case,
“Heidi, a crime is a crime not matter what. I know you could use the extra money but you need to do what’s right here”. she said
I gave her my half hearted agreement and slowly climbed out of the car. She smiled with pure angelic delight as I crossed in front of the car and steped up on the curb. Reluctantly I dug into my pockets and produced the needed coins.
Just as I was about to proceed, my evil angel appeared. “You know your not going to be gone that long, a couple of minutes at the most. You really shouldn’t have to pay.”
“Don’t you listen to him Heidi.” said my good angel as she threw a meanacing glare in his direction.
“Ah, losen up girl. Rules are made to be bent.”
“BENT! Ha! more like broken” retorted my better half, “You better get out of here before I . . ”
With a flick of my wrist I sent her sailing to the ground, pocketed the money and continued down the street. I pulled my jacket closer, willing the cold to leave, yet every few feet held a silent reminder of what I had just done. I closed my eyes tightly, pulled my hat down and hurried off into the night.
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It’s so hard to retell that story. I know there are those of you who won’t believe that I am capable of doing such a cold hearted deed. But sadly it’s true.
I didn’t pay the parking meter.
When I look back now I can hardly believe it myself. I replay the situtation over and over in my mind and everytime I do the guilt rises up and threatens to choke me. Who am I? What am I capable of doing? With little thought or care I was able to malicously and willfully destory the fragile hopes of my little angel.
There you have it, a small fragment from a shaded and dark past. I hope you all can learn to forgive me. I know it might take some time, but I am willing to change and grow into a better person.
Please give me a second chance.
After all it could have been worse. I’ve heard of these children who at age 2 are stealing cherrios from there mothers pantry!!! CAN YOU IMAGE !! I sincerely hope that someone can reach them soon, if it’s not to late already. I would hate for them to grow up and have to go through the same experiences I have.
Cherrios, people, CHERRIOS ! I can almost understand if it had been frosted flakes or coco puffs, but cherrioes ! (shakes head in disbelief) What is this world coming to.
