Sticks and Stones

I bet you probably didn’t know that I dream vividly every night.

Sometimes, it’s a frightening thing. Destruction, corruption, despair, plagueing my unconscious.

But other times, I know why my brain is whispering all the greatest things to me from the inside out. I relive the greatest days of my life, I remember why I am here. It tells me all the things I’m capable of.

Last night, I dreamed of Cameron Castle St. Cyr.

He was a kid from eighth grade. We were in a lot of classes together, and went to the same church. This did not, however, mean that we were friends. He used to torment me and bring in so many other people in the process.

And last night, I remembered the cruelest thing he ever did.

I walk toward the blacktop, averting my gaze from the other students in PE. It is my birthday. I make my way to the assigned spot on the pavement, and I’m stopped. Cameron walks up to my spot, and looks to me with hatred. He wipes his muddy shoes on my assigned section of the pavement. He smiles behind his sandy hair and says “It’s ready for you now.”

He and I went to the same church. Thus, we were both signed up for the much-anticipated church camp for that year. He sat behind me on the bus. I remember he wouldn’t stop kicking my seat.

The dream moved on.

“Every year,” the pastor says, “we hold a foot washing. Just as Jesus did to his disciples, we will do for you. Your cabin leader will now wash your feet.”
It is a shocking concept, and emotional. I realize its significance, having studied the bible the majority of my childhood. Lisa proceeds to wash my feet, and I am in awe. I hug her, and I sob. Cameron is across the circle from me, making faces.
Before I can stop myself, I am walking toward the buckets of soap and water and sponges. And I am walking toward Cameron. Before he can say a word, I kneel down, I avert my gaze, and I wash. I do not speak, I do not cry. I only wash. He stares at me, speechless, and embraces me awkwardly.
“Thanks, Alex.”

Those words haunt me. My mind will never let me forget the lesson of Cameron. Though people have hurt me, I cannot ever hold a grudge. I must forgive, for both them and me.

“When a resolute fellow steps up to the great bully, the world, and takes him by the beard, he is often surprised to find it comes off in his hand, and that it was only tied on to scare away the timid adventurers.”

-Ralph Waldo Emerson