Narrative

Changes
Scott Lester

So many people can talk about specific, defining moments in their life. I never can. I can never really pin down one single event that altered my life substantially. My life has been a long, slow process of change. People come into my life and alter me a little bit, somehow preparing me for the next chapter in the epic that is my time here on earth. But I have no single catalyst, no defining moment. I have hundreds and hundreds of little things that change me bit by bit, until I'm no longer the same person on the outside as I was five years ago. I say on the outside, because you can never truly change who you are at your core, your deepest truth. You can radically change yourself, but you're still always yourself, nothing you can ever do will change that.
I suppose I'll stop rambling here, and try to explain myself a little better by example. I vaguely remember my childhood. I am eightteen years old, and I vaguely remember my childhood. I know that I was a normal child, with a normal, happy childhood. No cares, no worries. No broken home, no abuse, nothing like that. I had no past issues to deal with when I got older. But nonetheless, there is very little of specific interest for me to remember. I remember my childhood with warm feelings, not exact memories.
But those first fifteen years of my life formed the core of my beliefs that I would follow for the rest of my life, whether I realized it then or not. For example, when I was in around fourth grade, my father took to watching a tv show called Highlander. It featured a cast of immortals who could only die if you cut off their head. These immortals were locked in an eternal battle that occured behind the scenes of normal, everyday life, going back to the prehistorical periods. I loved that show as a kid, in fact, I own the first two seasons of it on DVD and enjoy it still. Recently while watching the series on DVD, I realized that I actually got a large portion of my moral code from the main character Duncan Mcloud. Not all of it, but a large portion of my ideals on things such as violence, justice, honesty, integrity came directly from modelling that show. It is the little things that can influence you in ways you never realized that can truly make you who you are.
Everything in life comes down to the little things. Like afternoons at the lake. Sweet memories that never fade.

My feet slap wetly on the hot rock. Water flows slowly down off my skin, warmed by the bright sun. Looking around, I realize the beach is rather crowded today. That's no problem, because we've managed to secure the rock as our own little slice of heaven, to use a cliche phrase. Jessica lays her beach towel out on the rock and stretches out to absorb the sun. I can hear Emily, still splashing gaily in the cool water off the side of the rock. I lay myself out flat on the rock. The sun warmed hardness seaps into my skin, coaxing my weary body into a state of near slumber.
"This is nice." I can hear Jessica mumble softly.
"This is heaven." I say through my haze of slumber.
I shut my eyes, soaking up the soft heat. The raccous calls of the crowded beach slowly fade into oblivion, even Emily's splashing fades to near-nothingness. Everything fades out, and I am alone on my rock.

That's a small, seemingly insignifigant moment of my life. Yet without it, I am not quite the same as I am with it. It was a brief moment when I stepped outside of myself, and became totally relaxed. Totally free from life. But there is more to life than relaxing on a rock. Sometimes life requires action from you.

I shut my eyes for a brief second and absorb the smell around me. The room smells of old swet, earned from earnest motion and exhertion. I open my eyes and see my friend standing in front of me. He stands partially sideways with one leg forward and one back. I take a step forward and he tenses back. I take another step and throw my leg sideways towards his torso. He casually lowers his arms and blocks the kick. He steps closer to me and throws a fist lower to my ribs. I swipe it away with my arm and step back, throwing another kick in his direction to back him off. We stand back where we started. I advance again, I get in close and start swinging. He blocks one, two, and returns fire. Without steping back I crouch my body lower and block two of his punches. Raising my head up I see a fist flying towards my face. I start to dodge backwards, but not fast enough. My body explodes with the shock of the pain. My friend backs off, seeing a red blur slide down my face past my mouth. I lean against the wall, take one breathe and lean back up. It doesn't hurt enough to be broken, so I'm relieved. I smile through bloody lips and laugh. My first nose bleed, and I was starting to enjoy it. Pain was flaring down my nose, a cold aching sensation beating into the bones of my face. I felt alive, I felt everything. I leaned my head back and pinched my nose until the blood stopped flowing. I wiped the blood off my face, and once again squared off. Gods it felt good to be alive.
There's nothing quite like knowing you can get a bloody nose and keep pumping. Life can be ehilirating, even the parts that cause a little physical pain.
Life is made up of the little things, the things that you don't often think about. Its about the long nights, the walks in the dark. Its about getting up early to catch a certain tv show or go on a church trip. Each little thing we do changes us a little, and changes us forever.
I'm fifteen, and I'm on a church trip. We're staying at Belmont University for a week doing mild mission work in the inner city of Nashville. We'd just had a moving late night devotional with our church group, which ended in large masses of people weeping. It also led to quite a bit of introspection. During a half-dazed walk around the campus I happen to pass by a girl that I know is from my church group. She's sitting under a street lamp on the curb by herself. She has long blonde hair that glistens in the orange light. She wears a deep blue shirt, and simple well-worn jeans. Her shoes also seem to be well-worn, but very comfortable. I am not an impulsive person. I do not do things on a whim. But I sat down by this girl. I think we exchanged a total of three words. I had never spoken to her before. We just sat, side by side, in the light of the lamp for over half an hour. Each of our minds churning endlessly the rammifications of the devotional we had just heard. Eventually, she had to leave. I sought her out the next day, and we talked. We talked about normal things, about God things, about anything. She became one of my best friends. She became the reason I went to church.
Things happen, people drift away. She drifted away and got married. I haven't really seen much of her, but her memory still impacts me. That night that I first sat down by her will never leave me. It was a small, insignificant act, but it shifted the direction of my life. To an outside observer, it would seem to have no merit, no consequence.
Everything we do changes us. Sometimes a little, sometimes a lot. We can never know until we look back on our lives exactly how much or what kind of effect something has had on us.