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Autobiography

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Submitted By samijobro
Words 1002
Pages 5
English 1301
17 May 2015
Autobiography
My life felt like a test. I was like God’s personal guinea pig, and by my junior year of high school I couldn’t take it anymore. It was my third school in three years with a new set of dull classes, new overly eager teachers, and a completely new city in which I had heard been described as “a bubble” where everyone absolutely “loves to live” and no one ever leaves. Yet here I was three weeks in this city and I just wanted to get out. It was all very cliquey with the students, but also the teachers. Good grades on my assignments were few and far between but I just couldn’t find the drive to start all over again and put my head into the work; I stopped caring. Labor Day weekend had come faster than I anticipated and I decided it was time to explore more of The Lone Star State and went on a drive in my spiffy white Honda. I was driving, just me, myself, and I with the windows down hearing the choppy wind distribute through the car while little wispy pieces of hair attacked my face. Driving alone like that is just a certain kind of serenity that needn’t an explanation. As I was driving I was thinking of what could possibly make this mini road trip better, and of course the answer was, a crisp, fresh box of Mike N Ikes. I was making my way down the feeder to find the nearest convenience store. Then I saw him.
I passed him in the street. He was carrying what seemed to be his whole world in a cluster of carrier bags, two or three to each hand. He looked so very sad, and tired, and walked slowly with a medium sized dog that appeared malnourished and just as tired as he was. I drove on, but part of me couldn’t forget him. I reached the little store and I looked in where I saw the typical teenagers rummaging through the energy drinks with the mothers standing over their shoulders protesting their children’s choices. While I stood there, about to open the door, I glanced back and watched the man continue to shuffle slowly across the street. I felt like I was looking into two completely separate worlds. In one was the promise of crisp cool air conditioning and a vast array of snacks guaranteed to raise my cholesterol. In the other was the homeless man, alone on this warm, slightly muggy Saturday afternoon, with nowhere to sit and cool off with his pup.
After I grabbed my snacks, I walked back to my car and thought about that man and his dog. I went back. I crossed the street and rounded the corner and found him sitting down on the raised sidewalk in front of a store in hopes that when someone opened the door he would get the residual cool air that swept through the entryway. I had thought this man to be about fifty years old; however, up close he looked no more than thirty. I placed a $50 bill in his hand. What happened next left a mark on my soul.
He had piercing green eyes. The color green you see the day after a good rain where all the plants are nourished and alive again. He looked at me with the deepest gratitude I have ever known, it was like an unexpected gush of wind that knocked me over. He folded his hands and bowed his head as he looked at me as if to say a prayer, and then hugged his dog, but it was his eyes. Never in my life have I witnessed such an abundance of raw, honest, gratitude in a person’s eyes. I suddenly felt shame. He seemed holy in that moment, completely vulnerable, special; I, on the other hand, felt insignificant, and small. He saw himself as beneath me. He saw that myself, and others, could somehow decide his fate, and choose to bestow upon him food or money as we see fit. I turned and started to walk away, fighting back tears with gulps of breath. I furiously thought, “No, you are not beneath me, sir. You are not beneath anyone. You are lovely and have the right to true happiness.” I retreated back to my car and said a prayer for this man. While I’m not very religious, I was inspired to ask for comfort and peace for him. In turn, it made me feel a little better about not being able to do more for him. I still wish I could meet him again, and I’m often reminded of his powerful green eyes. As I got back on the road and blended in with all of the other road trippers and commuters, I felt small and weak. In that simple exchange, the homeless man was no doubt the better person. I have come to measure greatness in the bravery it takes to bare one’s soul. He showed his, while I hid mine behind my conveniences, money and decent clothing. I desperately wished that I’d sais something, anything, to make him feel less lonely. Instead I’d remained silent, bewildered, and embarrassed. When I got back to school the following Tuesday, I walked the clique-filled halls and sat next to a whole new set of kids I didn’t know. I felt my frustrations returning, and then it hit me. I realized that there were people out there who would give anything to have my life and my problems, as messed up as they may be. There hasn’t been a day since I met that man where I don’t look avidly around every time I pass someone holding up a sign and wonder how he’s doing. Texas taught me a lot that day. I learned that the heat is never dry, and that everyone is God’s personal guinea pig. He just gives each of us different tests.

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