A Memory (Installment 2)

click here for installment 1

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Not sure why I was reminded of this today, but nevertheless - this is what it is:

While living in Las Vegas, in the southern-practically-the-outskirts-at-the-time part, I lived in a cul-de-sac with three other homes. In one of those homes lived an older couple with an even older mother. They had a granddaughter (and great-granddaughter) who would play with us sometimes. We had enough interaction with the great-grandmother for me to be pretty sure she was scary, and I was afraid of her.

One day in the afternoon I was in the front of the house alone. I had just gotten out there and was walking between our big van and the garage when I heard 'help!' I looked across the street and saw the scary great-grandmother lady standing in front of the driveway of the house next to hers - not being able to keep walking to her home.

I'm ashamed to say my first action was to step back behind the van so she couldn't see me. I figured if she didn't know I was there, I couldn't be expected to help her.

Luckily my conscience kicked in quickly and I went across the street to help her. When I got there, she told me she needed help walking back to her house. So she grabbed onto my arm and we slowly made our way to her house.

And that was it.

But I was still scared of her.

I wish I could say that after that bonding moment we were great friends and she'd invite me over for milk and cookies. But she didn't. And I don't know that I would have gone even if she had. And she probably forgot it even happened.

But nothing changed.

I'm not really sure what the point of this story is, other than it makes me look like a not-great-person because I didn't jump right in to do the right thing.

I worry that I'm still like that sometimes. With different situations it's hard to really say how fast my response time really is now.

But I'm pretty sure that if I were ever faced with an old lady who was calling out for help, I'd jump right in. Scary or not.

A Memory

photo found here - this is not my sister (:

once upon a time my sister wanted/needed a haircut. my mom, being too busy, told her to have me do it. i was reluctant. i had cut my own hair (straight across, taking forever to get it even) a few times, but that was it. being forced into it, i started. i started at one side (her left, i think) and made my way around to the front right. by the time i got there, it was too late to stop what had been a gradual increase that turned not so gradual by the end. when i saw what i had done i couldn't hide the horrified look on my face. thinking i was joking, she asked, 'what?' i grabbed one side of her hair showing her the length, then grabbed the shorter end. she cried. i cried. we were both upset. my mom ended up fixing it. she got a lot of compliments on that short haircut.

i have cut her hair since then (not for years now, but thankfully all our experiences were better than that one) and so obviously she has forgiven me.

don't know why i thought of that just now.