Needling Under the Sun: Looking back helps to understand what’s ahead

Life. What else is there to speak about?

Walking on the beach with my mom. “Take off your shoes so your feet can feel the warm sand,” she tells me. I listen; it feels nice. We look out at the ocean; my brother is rowing on the water with his friends. We lay on the beach side by side and close our eyes. “Shield your eyes with your arm,” my mom tells me so the rays won’t damage my eyes. OK, I trust your opinion. I do it, and it’s quiet, peaceful and we are together.

Inside doing work when it’s a beautiful day outside.

Spending some time with my brother at the movies. Violence fills the screen; I sit for nearly two hours watching a movie about a psychopathic child who was traumatized, abandoned and then ends up murdering people stranded at a motel. The part I enjoy the most is sitting next to my brother. He keeps whispering in my ear to explain things about the movie that I had long ago stopped watching. But I like hearing him speak, and he knows what he’s talking about. So I listen. I tune in for one moment to hear an actress on the screen say a line. “Sometimes the story is so unbelievable it just might be true.” I never knew a horror story could send such a powerful message.

Sitting at the table and eating with my family. I just got back; it feels more comfortable than before. I’ve grown up. I’ve faced things I never knew I could face before.

Flying home on a plane with my dad. Enjoying looking out the window at the clouds. My dad is tired and fast asleep. “I need a break,” he said before dozing off. “Have you heard of a time out, of giving people a rest?” “Yes, I do understand the importance of rest. Thanks for reminding me to apply it,” I think.

Sitting in a hospital with my friends. Having fun having my blood pressure taken. Not having fun seeing them frustrated and worried. Knowing they are concerned lends a sense of comfort, a sense of unity.

There is something about retracing history that brings to light a clarity about where we have all been, how we have felt, how those around us have acted and what it all means. The memory is not just something to recall with a smile or a tear, but a vehicle through which to understand what we were and critically decide what we want to become.

Everyone around sends a message; every word sends a message if you look into it. My family helps. Do everything in moderation, my dad says at a time when I was unable to reconnect with the realities around me. “I’m sorry I was trying to discipline you, but I didn’t do it the right way. I’ll never treat you that way again,” says my mom repeatedly, not knowing she did all the right things. Her message reminds me of the power of remorse and in asking for forgiveness in bringing two people back together. Just listen to those around you, my brother suggests. “You can’t change people overnight. You can’t change people all by yourself.” I knew this, yet I was still trying so hard to do exactly that change others because I felt I had grown up, I had changed and I wanted for them to be close to me again. Patience.

The words of others help remind us of things we know but sometimes forget to utilize in our actions and our speech.

I believe you, my brother says. Sometimes having just one person believe is all it takes to help a person stop trying to prove themselves. I believe you, he says once. That’s all it takes and all of the sudden it lends a comfort, a peace. There is a power about people believing in one another. There is a power about believing in something other than oneself. So I’m going to just relax, live what I know, learn from what I see and tend to my responsibilities. Let’s keep things short and sweet. Have an enjoyable summer, but first have a nice day. Thank you all for helping to make this semester so mind-altering.

Amy Horowitz, a junior in the College of Communication and the College of Arts and Sciences, has been a weekly columnist for The Daily Free Press.