Call It a Smile
The afternoon of January 14, I was heading towards my mom’s car to fetch her cellphone, when out of the blue I heard something that would change me in many levels. That afternoon I knew that in my future helping out was going to be a key.
“No dad! Dad!” “Somebody call the cops.” “Leave him alone!” were among the few phrases I heard.
In the parking lot a fight had started, two angry men were beating each other up, two elderly ladies were on the ground yelling “Stop!” and a girl, perhaps twelve years old, was aimlessly running around crying.
My first impulse was to get a hold of the girl who was crying and tell her that everything was going to be OK. Instead, I watched as the fight settled down and people started to leave.
Next to me a lady, in her late twenties, it seemed, called the police.
A couple minutes after the call the police had arrived at the parking lot, I walked towards the girl who was now sitting down alone on the sidewalk.
“Hey are you alright? Do you need something? Is there anything I can do?” I asked to the girl in the blue jersey with number eight.
“No! I’m fine thank you,” her tone was not rude but she was emotionless, the tone one gives parents when you want them to leave but don’t want to make them angry. She had settled down, she now looked angry and disappointed.
From up close, I recognized her. She was in the team my sister had just had a basketball game with. The opposing team. Out in the court she was skilled player, someone I looked at with a lot of astonishment, but out on the real world was nothing but an impotent girl who couldn’t do anything but sit and watch.
Her face was hard; her beautiful blue eyes lost all its shine like a star in a cloudy night. Her hair was messy; her blonde curls had found their way out of her bun.
“Well let me know if you need any help,” I said, although I knew that she wouldn’t accept my offer because perhaps she was too strong or too shy to ask for help.
As I made my way back to the car I realized how well the girl had acted. How emotionlessly she reacted, and how mature she faced the situation.
I opened the door of my mom’s red car and sat down, feeling the sun beat against my skin. I looked outside and noticed that the mob that had gathered to watch the fight had completely vanished. Everything that was left was shattered glass on the floor and a girl walking in circles with anger in her eyes.
Unable to move, I sat in the car for a time that felt like an eternity. And it was there where I realized that violence is just like secondhand smoke. It’s hard to avoid.
The girl had nothing to do directly with the fight, regardless of her relationship with any of the men, but seeing an action affected her. It’s a lot like when you see a couple in the hallways. One can take two views, the Eww What Are You Doing, or Why Can’t That Be Me.
While I was sitting down I looked at my phone and scanned my pictures. I realized then that in a way everything everyone else does affects you, from texting, dating, and fighting. Most of the time it’s not purposely but every action starts a chain reaction.
I walked out of my car and one more time walked by the girl and this time, I didn’t say anything, I walked by and smiled like I had known her for the longest time.
With tears in her blue eyes building up she looked at me, smiled and said “Thanks.” I knew that her smile was the only way that she could show me she really appreciated me, and I knew that the smile she gave back to me was worth more than hearing her tell me her disgrace.
It was there when I realized a lot of things, like why it is that violence and drugs are so addicting. It’s because they’re popular in a weak environment, where no one can offer a positive attitude, where the weak are the weakest but act strong. Where tired knees can’t do anything but react with angry fists, where it’s no longer an organism that craves something, but the soul.
But if someone, anyone in the mob can offer just a smile, a simple act of graciousness, then actions speak louder than words, strike further than a fist.
The journey back to the gym where my mom was waiting for me, I was difficult. It was difficult to hold back the tears, and all the found emotions. But at least I could say one thing, that in less than twenty minutes I had changed and I had achieved one of the greatest achievements of my life it was finally understanding the saying, “Actions speak louder than words.” A smile means more than questions, and a fight means more than “No matter what I do, I love you.” A call means more than “Stop!”
But unfortunately we live in twisted world, where one day a parent is giving moral lessons, but they’re committing a crime. We live in a world where hypocrisy is often seen as the truth and the truth is often mistaken with disrespect.
It’s difficult for those who are learning how to survive in a tough environment. Sadly, the good people almost never come out underdogs.
This narrative was about a story that shifted me, a nearly wordless story that grabbed my heart and opened it. Maybe the girl doesn’t remember me, but inside I will never forget the moment when a simple smile meant more than a stretched dialogue to someone I had just met.
Thanks to this experience I know that in my future I want to be a child protectorate, maybe an infant psychologist, or a social worker, anything that can allow me to help children. I want children to know they’re not alone.Call It a Smile
The afternoon of January 14, I was heading towards my mom’s car to fetch her cellphone, when out of the blue I heard something that would change me in many levels. That afternoon I knew that in my future helping out was going to be a key.
“No dad! Dad!” “Somebody call the cops.” “Leave him alone!” were among the few phrases I heard.
In the parking lot a fight had started, two angry men were beating each other up, two elderly ladies were on the ground yelling “Stop!” and a girl, perhaps twelve years old, was aimlessly running around crying.
My first impulse was to get a hold of the girl who was crying and tell her that everything was going to be OK. Instead, I watched as the fight settled down and people started to leave.
Next to me a lady, in her late twenties, it seemed, called the police.
A couple minutes after the call the police had arrived at the parking lot, I walked towards the girl who was now sitting down alone on the sidewalk.
“Hey are you alright? Do you need something? Is there anything I can do?” I asked to the girl in the blue jersey with number eight.
“No! I’m fine thank you,” her tone was not rude but she was emotionless, the tone one gives parents when you want them to leave but don’t want to make them angry. She had settled down, she now looked angry and disappointed.
From up close, I recognized her. She was in the team my sister had just had a basketball game with. The opposing team. Out in the court she was skilled player, someone I looked at with a lot of astonishment, but out on the real world was nothing but an impotent girl who couldn’t do anything but sit and watch.
Her face was hard; her beautiful blue eyes lost all its shine like a star in a cloudy night. Her hair was messy; her blonde curls had found their way out of her bun.
“Well let me know if you need any help,” I said, although I knew that she wouldn’t accept my offer because perhaps she was too strong or too shy to ask for help.
As I made my way back to the car I realized how well the girl had acted. How emotionlessly she reacted, and how mature she faced the situation.
I opened the door of my mom’s red car and sat down, feeling the sun beat against my skin. I looked outside and noticed that the mob that had gathered to watch the fight had completely vanished. Everything that was left was shattered glass on the floor and a girl walking in circles with anger in her eyes.
Unable to move, I sat in the car for a time that felt like an eternity. And it was there where I realized that violence is just like secondhand smoke. It’s hard to avoid.
The girl had nothing to do directly with the fight, regardless of her relationship with any of the men, but seeing an action affected her. It’s a lot like when you see a couple in the hallways. One can take two views, the Eww What Are You Doing, or Why Can’t That Be Me.
While I was sitting down I looked at my phone and scanned my pictures. I realized then that in a way everything everyone else does affects you, from texting, dating, and fighting. Most of the time it’s not purposely but every action starts a chain reaction.
I walked out of my car and one more time walked by the girl and this time, I didn’t say anything, I walked by and smiled like I had known her for the longest time.
With tears in her blue eyes building up she looked at me, smiled and said “Thanks.” I knew that her smile was the only way that she could show me she really appreciated me, and I knew that the smile she gave back to me was worth more than hearing her tell me her disgrace.
It was there when I realized a lot of things, like why it is that violence and drugs are so addicting. It’s because they’re popular in a weak environment, where no one can offer a positive attitude, where the weak are the weakest but act strong. Where tired knees can’t do anything but react with angry fists, where it’s no longer an organism that craves something, but the soul.
But if someone, anyone in the mob can offer just a smile, a simple act of graciousness, then actions speak louder than words, strike further than a fist.
The journey back to the gym where my mom was waiting for me, I was difficult. It was difficult to hold back the tears, and all the found emotions. But at least I could say one thing, that in less than twenty minutes I had changed and I had achieved one of the greatest achievements of my life it was finally understanding the saying, “Actions speak louder than words.” A smile means more than questions, and a fight means more than “No matter what I do, I love you.” A call means more than “Stop!”
But unfortunately we live in twisted world, where one day a parent is giving moral lessons, but they’re committing a crime. We live in a world where hypocrisy is often seen as the truth and the truth is often mistaken with disrespect.
It’s difficult for those who are learning how to survive in a tough environment. Sadly, the good people almost never come out underdogs.
This narrative was about a story that shifted me, a nearly wordless story that grabbed my heart and opened it. Maybe the girl doesn’t remember me, but inside I will never forget the moment when a simple smile meant more than a stretched dialogue to someone I had just met.
Thanks to this experience I know that in my future I want to be a child protectorate, maybe an infant psychologist, or a social worker, anything that can allow me to help children. I want children to know they’re not alone.
