Revelation

The whole encounter lasted less than a minute. I had just dropped off some medical forms when I saw a young woman with long blond hair and nondescript clothings softly crying, sitting across the room, waiting for her appointment with a psychologist. Her face was entirely wet from tears. She clutched a soggy tissue in one hand and made no attempt to hide her sorrow; couldn’t actually, I’m sure. I felt a little tug at my heart, but what could I do? I left the waiting room and walked to the elevator. I reached for the down arrow, but stopped just short of pushing it. I couldn't just leave, pretend I hadn't seen her, forget who I am now. I turned and walked back in. The woman looked up when she saw me and began sobbing harder. I walked over and touched her knee. She cried harder. I waited. “It will be ok, whatever it is, I promise,” I said quietly, so as not to draw attention to her from the other patients. She looked up at me with intense green eyes and a face full of pain, as though her very life depended upon my every word. “Don’t give up” I said. She nodded and sobbed out a “Thankyou.”

As I took the elevator down to the ground floor and walked across the parking lot, my own eyes filled with tears. It had rained all night and the morning sky was still gray and overcast. So much sorrow in this world! In the car, I thought about the woman all the way to Mills. I don’t know why she was so grief stricken and I wondered: A broken heart? Betrayal? A dead or dying child? Divorce? But does it really matter what the source of our pain is?

These past months, knowing I’d be writing memoir for my senior project, I’ve been agonizing over the purpose of writing such a difficult story as ours has been. Other than my own obvious need to find a place for those experiences, I've been thinking: Who will read them? And why will they care? My professor has been pushing me to find a thesis and determine who my audience will be.

“Don’t give up” I had said to the woman. There were times when I wanted to, no doubt, but I didn’t, and that is probably the single most important decision I've made which gave me back my life. I think I just found my thesis.