IS IT SAFE TO LOOK AT THE MOON?

What Gives?

The mind reflects what the heart feels.

Why do I wonder along life's journey? What is the purpose of a life that is empty? Why am I alive?

Melisa was a master in making things alive - in her writing. She writes with diligence, day after day, her thoughts come together in one large sweep, urges her to write, to engage in remembering the many facets of her life: as a teenager; as a mother; as an elderly adult.

She sat at the back of her class every day, since the first day of grade school. She was terrified. In her own mind she knew the answer to a problem that was written on the blackboard. Alas, however, when the teacher asked her to stand up, provide an answer to the question, she began to sweat. Her hands felt damp, shaky. Her voice disappeared, somewhere in the deepest seat of fluid in her body. Her tongue got tied into knots. Her face turned reddish. She felt an overwhelming desire to run away, hide behind the door, or melt away from the eyes of her classmates, that stared at her inability to speak. But she stood by her desk, like a statue, quietly swallowing the shame that came over her, bearing a mountain of embarrassment that she knew she would never be able to explain to her mother.

When she heard her teacher speak, told her to get out of the classroom, and be accompanied by a student teacher, to see the Principal, she was not relieved at all. This was the worst event in her life, something she was to remember until the day she dies.