Searching for the Silver Lining

livia

When I was a kid my Babcia told me a story of how when you die, God comes and takes your hand and guides you away from the world of man. He takes you up a mountain top and you look down at your entire life.  Every moment and every person. You see every person you have loved as well as wronged, and you are to assess whether or not you did well in your life.

As I child I thought it was a fairy tail. A whimsical bitter sweet fairy tale. Looking back I know realize it was her way into scaring me into behaving. She would also read to me in Romanian, about how demons would come and take away misbehaving children. She would then tell me to be good, kiss my forehead, and leave my closet door wide open so the demons could attack me if I tried to stay up past my curfew. I feel as though that was her more drastic approach. Maybe this was why I thought the "God's Mountain" story was such a wonderful and cheery tale.

At the age of 19 I did not have much to show for. The only thing I had was my grades. Due to my lack of a social life, I spent my time doing homework, or on Netflix and reading. I did not like community service. The 400 hours I had was from my Babcia not giving me money for shoveling the snow in the winter (only to have a snow plow ruin my work).

I was a bitter person. I was highly annoyed with people. Such as those who took advantage of others. Reckless people, who do not even stop to consider others. Specifically the people who simply assumed I was a grump because I could not relate to them about pop culture. Unless they were talking about Harry Potter, Doctor who, Sherlock, and Lord of the Rings or even worldly educated topics like politics or science I did not care. I was not going to engage in a conversation I did not care for- I had no intention of being fake.

Around a two years before I left for collage something happened. It tore the last fragment of hope I had and turned me into the pessimistic lump I became. My extended family were the ones I had always relied on but after that they fell apart. I was able to prolong it by being there for them but Babcia needed me to escape the poisons and depressing atmosphere of that house. I had applied to a random school that Babcia had approved of shipped of that summer to live there.

When ever I looked back at university there was always two classes I dreaded. Physics and communications. I loved science. Hell I wanted to be a scientist and study radiation, but math was not my strong point. The reason I hated that class was because my professor, Mr. Casey also taught calculus at the community down the road. I had taken Physics before. In Mrs. Julian's class we built catapults and video taped ourselves hitting flaming tennis balls. Then we learned about reflection and light. That was science. That was learning. Yet for some reason Mr. Casey did not think so.

The first day I walked into his class I knew I was going to fail. He introduced the class with :"Math is true science!" we spent the entire semester solving tedious formulas and measuring angles. That was why I hated that class. 

Then there was communication class. I did not like people. Hated them most of the time. I was one of those people who watched Netflix all day alone or who preferred self check out that way I could avoid talking to people. Naturally having to take a class where you learn to talk to people- and politely i might add- was my worst nightmare. The one phrase i feared with ever fiber of my body was "buddy up". Unfortunately I had to hear these words twice a week. One day something happened.

I met a boy name Joshua Jackson Petroski. This story is not necessarily about me- I am just the one telling it. This is about Joshua- well mostly. How we all have a story to tell. How we all have encountered something we would rather forget.  How by meeting Joshua and the others I was able to see everything ends. Everything around you is guaranteed to end. Weather it painful and slow, or is quick and unexpected like a tornado ripping through you life... well that's up to God to decide. Yet somehow the good becomes bad and the bad becomes good. And when the bad becomes good it is greater then that first rain drop that brings an end to the drought. Life is an ironic and sick joke but eventually- if you welcome it, you can see the good. 

This is how slowly I suddenly was able to shed the resent I cared and was able to become human.This is the story of the boy who taught me how to pan for silver.