Personal Narrative

“Never put your key to happiness in someone else's pocket.”~Anonymous. It was the Fourth of July, and my parents were planning a small party with our next-door neighbors. By this time I was in third grade and very close to a friend my age that lived next door. He had a little brother, who I thought was pretty intimidating for his age, considering he never obeyed or listened to anyone, and made up his own rules, like a visualante. On the other hand I had two sisters. The older one, Ronnie, I thought she was brilliant and knew everything good in the world. She even made up the saying, “I don’t need twenty-twenty vision to see the good in everyone.” And, then there was my irresistibly cute, little sister, Natalie. She was only a year younger than
me, but I took care of her all the time and helped her because she had down syndrome. In our small party with our neighbors, the parents stayed upstairs talking away at confusing, and boring topics of their choice. It was about mid-day and fireworks wouldn’t be seen for another few hours, so instead of listening to our parents talk, us kids went down our soft brown, freshly carpeted stairs to the basement. Earlier this week Ronnie and I had been playing with Natalie in the basement and swinging her from her hands and feet. She loved it. Coincidentally, my friend took his brother by wrapping his arms around his chest and playfully swinging him around.
Natalie recognized the same excitement she must have felt when my sister and I were swinging her around because, she jumped right in and grabbed my friend’s brother’s feet. My friend then grabbed his brother’s arms and let go of his chest to start swinging him with Natalie. Ronnie was in the background looking at something and I was sitting on a couch enjoying seeing my sister so happy. But, that happiness didn’t stay long because when Ronnie worriedly
stated, “Oh, no the barbie plane is broken!” My friend dropped his brother’s head against the hard floor and ran towards Ronnie, then stopped halfway to look back at his hurt brother, my sister, and I.
Ronnie turned to look, too, and the both of them had a very shocked expression on their faces. His brother was lying on the floor whimpering softly. My friend ran upstairs to tell his parents, and mine. Everyone came back down stairs and nothing happened calmly at all. Turns, out my thought-to-be friend had framed my little sister. I was shocked to the point where I was speechless. I felt my throat tighten and my mouth drop in disgust, while my friend’s dad screamed unstoppable into my little sister’s helpless face, my mind raced and raced with recent memories and devastating thoughts about what just happened right in front of my eyes. My friend’s dad wasn’t going to stop, at least I thought this was never going to end, but thankfully it did suddenly when my mom, almost to the point of tears from rage just about yelled, “Relax, let’s hear what happened from one of the girls.” After Ronnie stated with a steady
voice that she had been looking at the barbie plane and missed what happened, it was my turn to tell the true story. I had seen the whole thing go down, front and center sitting on the couch, and had explained what I saw even though I had no clue what my friend had said to the parents besides blaming my sister. My friend’s parents didn’t apologize for their diabolical behavior, or for their son’s lying and framing my innocent little sister. By then Natalie was clinging to my mom’s right leg until my friend’s dad asked for a hug from Natalie. And, of course Natalie was going to give it to him, because she loved hugs and even through her tear streaked reddened face anyone could tell she had already forgotten what had just happened. I almost couldn’t contain my anger, I was going to pop like a balloon when touched with a sewing needle. Three years later, I was in the middle of sixth grade. It was Sunday and I was in church at my Religious Education class. Turns out our teacher was sick and didn’t have enough time to call in a sub so our class went into the same class as the seventh graders. The seventh grade teacher’s lesson was all about forgiveness and holding grudges that make our personalities change when we don’t let them go. She made everyone write in their religious education journals, one person we haven't forgiven yet. Then she told us that we would feel better if we forgave them. So, I decided that holding a grudge on our neighbors would only make things worse and forgiving them would make me at least feel better. I took a deep breath in and then out, and then cleared my mind. I closed my eyes and forgave them. My anger I’ve held for years had suddenly drained out of me indescribably, like a plug holding in all my anger had been pulled. I recall the seventh grade teacher preaching calmly that, “Sometimes you just need to let go to feel better.” She didn’t just mean to feel better about that person or people I forgave, but also to stop having a sick feeling in my chest. When I forgave my neighbors that sick feeling went away. When I finally went home from religious education, I told my mom about what I had done. I felt happy, and calm, and relaxed for the first time in a while. But, I also felt spastic with classified excitement that I couldn’t tell where it was coming from. My mind seemed to bounce around in eagerness like a cotton tailed rabbit being chased by a fox. My arms were on the kitchen counter and was sitting cross-legged on a stool talking to my mom. I remember my mom telling me, “That’s good that you forgave them, but it’s okay not to forget what they did.” Meaning the saying forgive and forget doesn’t have to apply to everything. That day I learned something, an incredible life skill, the ability to forgive. And, what happens if you don’t forgive? I learned that if you don’t forgive others mistakes then you can’t ever be happy, and hatred will follow those who carry it until they find the courage to release it. I have learned to forgive those who cause vulnerable troubles and learned to let my grudges go.