Somewhere out in this world there is a black man close to my age who went to a Christian school in the Deep South, the same school as me. It wasn't a big school, maybe 300 students, but we were all very white except for two of us. I try to imagine what that must have been like for them, but I get so scared. Sure, there was racism everywhere, but you wouldn't think so at a Christian school, but it was worse. It was that snot-colored worm in that pretty red apple.
I was doing something stupid on the metal playground death traps and I fell, knocking the wind out of myself and laying splayed out on the dirt. The place was all ate up with white kids, but the only person who came to help me was the black boy.
Forever in my life he has made a difference. He took care of me when nobody else did and I have never forgotten him. He has been my shield and compass when racism belched out invitations at me.
Today, he is what I am most thankful for in my life.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
Hi Maisie. I like this story. It is so touching. It reminds me of when I was in elementary school. I grew up in an area where there were many Japanese. My first friend was Japanese, my first girlfriend, and even my eye doctor! But at my elementary school there was a dwarf named Bobby. I knew Bobby was different, even in first grade. He already could not reach the drinking fountain, so I used to help him by lifting him up. He was very heavy for such a little guy. I hope you will come visit my blogs too. I lived in Decatur, Georgia last year. I was writing a young adult novel.
Post a Comment