Once upon a time,
...not a vague time, exactly remembered. I was 16, a straight-As student at
Carmel College, in the home of my favourite class, the Biology lab, at the end of 4th period on a Thursday late in April.
Cleaning the blackboard at the front of the classroom. Behind the long teachers' bench that ran across the podium. So neat, that broad space. Territory of of our clever, confident, stylish young teacher, who could use words like "envaginate" without blink or blush and made us all feel we were capable of comprehending anything.
There on the scratchpad, in small flowing script:
I cry in the shower, the falling water hides the sound of pain
It was impossible to look away. My eyes were as caught as my breath, as my heart thudded with a strange mixture of pity, contempt and fear. I will never forget that moment.
Then, I didn't understand, though I felt the powerful pull of recognition.
Now, I know exactly that feeling.
Then, my teacher seemed another class of human, so far advanced from my own immaturity.
Now, I'm 20 years older than she was.
The great difference is that the contempt and fear are (mostly) gone, gentled with experience and compassion. And I've learned to let the water wash away the pain. I hope hers is gone too.
