Long before I was born, my mother was with an acquaintance Akmal. They were together at the grocery store. While shopping, a woman approached them and began conversing with the two of them. They were childhood friends from grade school.
The conversation was cordial. They exchanged pleasantries and caught up on old times. After sharing a few laughs, the woman walked off and Akmal declared to my mother, “I can’t stand that witch!”.
What? Why?? My mother was understandably confused. After all, they had just had a cordial conversation. ” What did she do to you?”, my mother asked. “She beat me up in the 3rd grade.” Smh (Shake my head)!
The story sounded much funnier when my mother shared it with me a few months ago. But it is equally pitiful. I don’t know what is more embarrassing: getting beat up by a girl in 3rd grade (no disrespect to my fierce females) or still being mad about it 30 years later. What do you think? Who should be more embarrassed? 3rd grade Akmal, 30 year old Akmal, both or neither?
How many people do you know who still carry pain from the past in one form or another? How do we overcome? “Unforgiveness” they say is like ingesting poison in hopes that it hurts the other person.