I've thought about Tim a lot since college years and wondered how dreadful his responsibility must have been. I dream of learning without the sweat, tears, and stress, but wonder if instant learning and small snap-shot images become lasting lessons not found in life experiences. My simple learning requires a lot of digging, reading, and analytical comparisons in open, stacked books on the desk. I tend to use a lot of time trying to find the right source and too much time trying to memorize.
Learning for me is the hard way of life experiences.
What did I do to someone else?
How did I feel or how did they feel?
What happened to me or the other person?
Did I hurt? Did I hurt someone else?
Oh, Oh, God forgive me is a constant prayer.
There are many times I try to cope with the small snap shots that have proven more crippling than healing.
That small, little snap shot found in the corner of a shoe box rather than presented in the good photo album.
The little snap shot bent, molded, discolored, and frayed.
The little snap shot I really want to discard, but can't.
The forgotten snap shot that reveals the truth about me.
The one snap shot I wish had never existed.
The memory of the event I wish had never happened.
Submitted in ignorance and with all respect to the professionally diagnosed.
