Who Would Have Thought . . .
I was having a conversation the other day with someone from high school — someone younger than me — when that dreaded phrase came up: “I remember you from high school . . .” Oh shit…I thought to myself, here we go! My mind raced, bracing itself for impact, half-expecting a horror story about some dumb thing I’d done back then, one that left scars I had been completely unaware of.
She continued, “We had typing class together.” Typing class… (or “keyboarding,” as they call it now — do typewriters even still exist?) - my mind was quickly replaying everything it could remember about my typing classes to see if I had been a mean girl in any way to anyone, which would not be out of the realm of possibilities.
Not being one to back down from a fight, I have been in my fair share of verbal squabbles with people and two physical fights. Laying hands on someone is not my deal, so the physical fights remain at two, but the verbal squabbles continue to rise along with my age. Even though I wasn’t remembering anything wretched that I did during typing class, my body was still tense and my mind on high alert.
Then she said, “I was really shy back then. I was taking every business class I could, so we were in advanced typing together.” She went on to tell me how being the only younger kid in a class full of upperclassmen had left her feeling isolated and invisible on top of being shy. That surprised me, as I didn’t remember her that way. In my mind, she’d been this popular, solid person — the kind of girl everyone wanted to be. Yet, I couldn’t recall seeing her at any of the afterschool or weekend shenanigans.
Then came the gut punch: Oh no, was I mean to someone who was shy? My stomach knotted. I prepared myself to hear how I’d failed to notice her or, worse, had somehow added to her feeling of loneliness.
But then she smiled and said, “I remember you because you always talked to me. It’s like you knew I was shy, so you’d always go out of your way to talk to me. You were kind. You were always kind.”
Kind? She remembers me as kind?! I didn’t know what to say. People usually remember me as intimidating, a bit rough around the edges, or maybe a little bit funny on a good day, but not usually kind. Yet, hearing this, I felt something shift. Behind all my tough talk and occasionally unpredictable temper, I am kind. I get fired up and even mean when I see someone being mistreated, and unfortunately that’s what people remember — the behavior, not the context.
Decades removed from my teenage self; I’m learning to begin to lay down the sword in favor of gentler actions that are intentionally softer and more compassionate. The good stuff that actually connect me with others and them to me, swinging the pendulum in favor of kindness winning the war. And this woman, this person from my past, saw and remembered that part of me.
She saw my light. It was kind. I guess I’ve been practicing kindness all along, without even knowing it. The wonders of the Universe once again amaze and delight me, reminding me that who we are in our hearts is often seen by others, even when we forget to look for ourselves!
Peace,
Paula
