Life's Film
I have found that when witnessing the end of another person's life all the snapshots that your mind has created, during the course of your own life, seem to fuse together to create a movie. It's like watching a biography in the dim light of Social Studies Class. Images of your past flicker through your mind like the click click of the film strip being fed through a movie projector.
I see myself at 6 years old running behind my brother and sister, dime clutched in my hand, summer sun beating down on me as I chased down the ice cream man.
*click*
The dime flying out of my hand to land in the tall grass. Frantically searching through the grass on my hands and knees for the lost coin.
*click*
Running back to my Mom to get another dime before the ice cream man drove away. Her refusal to give me another dime to teach me responsibility of hanging on to money given to me.
*click*
Standing beside my sister and crying, watching her open her Popsicle. Seeing the flicker of emotion in her eyes as she looked over at me then broke the Popsicle and gave me half.
*click*
The cold sweet taste of the banana flavor touching my tongue mixed with the feeling of my big sister's love for me.
*click*
Tiny moments in time that make up the story of who we were and how we became who we are today.
I have found that when witnessing the end of another person's life all the snapshots that your mind has created, during the course of your own life, seem to fuse together to create a movie. It's like watching a biography in the dim light of Social Studies Class. Images of your past flicker through your mind like the click click of the film strip being fed through a movie projector.
I see myself at 6 years old running behind my brother and sister, dime clutched in my hand, summer sun beating down on me as I chased down the ice cream man.
*click*
The dime flying out of my hand to land in the tall grass. Frantically searching through the grass on my hands and knees for the lost coin.
*click*
Running back to my Mom to get another dime before the ice cream man drove away. Her refusal to give me another dime to teach me responsibility of hanging on to money given to me.
*click*
Standing beside my sister and crying, watching her open her Popsicle. Seeing the flicker of emotion in her eyes as she looked over at me then broke the Popsicle and gave me half.
*click*
The cold sweet taste of the banana flavor touching my tongue mixed with the feeling of my big sister's love for me.
*click*
Tiny moments in time that make up the story of who we were and how we became who we are today.
Haphazardkat
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