The Savage Salve

Still absorbing the weekend... trying to put words to the tangle of emotions swirling through my mind. There have been laughter, tears, and sighs of relief. I confronted long held fears. After 41 years  I went "back to school" (by way of the 40 year class reunion) and owned my past, a past that isn't near as frightening today as it was at seventeen. (I was 15 in this photo but it was all I could at the moment.)

"Martha, I looked for your picture in the yearbook," a former classmate told me on Friday evening, "and it wasn't there. Did you know your picture isn't in the yearbook?"

"I wasn't there," I answered, "I didn't graduate."

Gail said it was a weird question and she was annoyed he'd said it. She was more offended than I was. I hadn't been offended at all. I hadn't even thought to be offended. Whether it was an honest question or not didn't really matter. He was absolutely right. My picture is not in the yearbook. Besides, he addressed me by name. I wasn't invisible. He saw me.

Another classmate stopped to say how he'd always had a sweet spot for me. I'm not sure I ever spoke with him in school, but he saw me... Another called my name and gave me a big hug. One of my favorite guys at school. He's still loved by everyone and he still makes everybody smile. He saw me too.

Being seen is healing. Being seen for who I am and what I have been through is healing. I still might need a good long cry, the cleansing kind that washes away the built up tension, but that will come in time.