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A Little Helping Hand

Updated February 14, 2019

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A Little Helping Hand essay

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A Little Helping Hand Life is different for everyone who lives it. No two people experience the same sensations, emotions or relationships. Every persons life is unique in itself, each of us have our own influences and manipulations as well as manipulators and transgressors. Events happen to us and we forget them. Other people touch our lives and leave us as swiftly as they entered our realm of consciousness. Only the things or people that dramatically change who we are or the paths of our lives or of those close to us, for better or for worse, are remembered.

The rest fade into our memory. Each one obviously slightly changes us, but for the most part they disappear without leaving a trace of even their existence. Only the ones that rend the course of our lives from their previous paths, throwing it and us into disarray, have the distinction of being easily recalled. These memories we can hold onto with assurance, these we can remember vividly. For me, life has been a virtual flood of helping hands.

All of my family and friends have always been caring, concerned and helpful towards me. Strangers always seem to like me off the bat as well. And of these people the ones that I have been close to have a place in my heart and I could explain to you any of these people down to a tee. Yet, I do not have the desire to do so.

As much as they have influenced and supported me almost none of them have affected me or my life in the afore mentioned manor. Except, of course, my parents but I would feel childish choosing one of them. Hatred is next in line after love. So for the people I hate, well they are few and far between.

I can only think of one or two, me ex-brother-in-law being the most prominent. As much as I would enjoy describing that man to you in all his splendid glory, I would rather not give him this slight honor. So moving on past hatred leaves me with few choices for my topic. Yet, there they are. The few strangers I have met and grown fond of.

The people I have had an automatic bond with, that have changed me from the start and changed me even more in the end. The most prominent of these being Elizabeth Anne Sherman. Me Beth, my high school crush, my first love, a beautiful young lady that I will never forget. She is someone I care deeply for but will probably never see again, which is fine. She is someone that had a great impact on my life, not so much concerning the path I have chosen, but upon the development of myself, my personality.

When I first think of her all I see is her deep brown eyes. They were always my favorite feature of hers, they were rich, warm, large pools of hazel light. Innocence glinted and flashed in them all the time. Without reserve I can tell you, she has the eyes of an angel. She really was my brown eyed girl. Her eyes could trap me, her eyes alone could caress me, warm me and calm me.

They were open and loving, always calm and understanding and her smile was always quick to appear. And god could she bat those eyes. She was not conceited, or stuck-up, knowing she was beautiful, she was not that petty. But she knew how to use those eyes of hers, at least to affect me.

The longer I sit and think of her, the better my mental picture of her becomes, it pulls back, slowly. First expanding to include her smile. A bright vibrant smile. Simple and unremarkable but memorable just the same, a perfect match for her face. Above it rested the cutest little button nose.

It was covered with freckles that spread over the top half of her cheeks adding even more to her all-American girl next door look. And beyond this small square of my memory my adoration begins to fade. Not for any particular reason other than that I did not stare at the rest of her nearly as much. Her hair was brown, cropped short, barely reaching down to her neck. I loved it. Her laugh was light and girlish, a definite giggle.

She would lower her head and raise her eyes up to look at you when she laughed, and her hair would fall down to the sides of her face. She usually kept it pulled back behind her ears. Her build was light and petite, though she was young when I knew her, and her height was around five foot nine. I am not sure if you are disgusted yet or not, this is not a praise be to this girl kind of thing, but I am not going to lie about her looks. She is, was, a gorgeous young lady.

I just wanted to give you an idea of what I see when someone talks to me about any Beth at all. Like I said, she was still young when I knew her, still immature. She was spoiled and sheltered, just like myself. And this sheltering is where her innocence came from.

She was a good girl, and like all good girls, she loves having fun. Anykind of fun was just fine with her too. She snuck out, she snuck me in, we went to parties and we had great times together. This was not the area of innocence I saw in her and adored.

Her innocence came from her ignorance. Ignorance of the ways of the world, her lack of street smarts was where her innocence came from. Not that I can talk much, I am the same way. I could expand on this, I could pick out things that are not usually desired human traits but that is not how I remember it.

Of course I did not realize all this then, I did not know how lucky I was to have someone so beautiful at that time of innocence in our lives to love. Now do not think she is foolish either. She is not, she is quite bright really. Truly she is an intelligent person. I am sure she has picked up on the truth of things by now. She is caring too, she wanted to be a veterinarian.

Beth was a real nice girl, a real sweet young lady that I am proud to have had as mine. I could keep going. I could tell you of her voice, soft and a little deep, or of the way she walked a little to softly, her hips swishing back and forth with her arms close to her side. The way she cocked her head to the side with a crook in her smile and one side of her hair falling in front of her face whenever she walked towards me was so adorable. Whenever she would say no her head would bob forward a tiny bit her lips puckering on the o sound.

She loved cutting my hair, and I let her, though she was not very good at it. She would always eat lightly, at least around me, but she ate well. When the sun was out it would glow off her skin, her cheeks full like a chipmunk when she beamed. Her absolute trust and love for me were so comforting and truly pacifying. I miss them both. Just the feeling she gave me is unforgettable.

They say you can never forget you first love and I bet they are right. I would not want to forget her anyway. If you can not tell by now, then I will spell it out for you. I loved this girl and I think she is one of the best people I have ever known.

One day I left for college. And it went down hill from there. I did not cheat on her while I was gone. But she was a young, pretty, good girl and I was over two hours away.

I was not close enough to keep her entertained, not close enough to keep other guys at bay. The inevitable came and I lost her, and man was I jealous. I did some pretty childish things too. I mad her mad at me. I really wish I had not done that and I hope now she remembers me in a good light, like I do her.

You may be wondering how all this changed me so drastically, well that is a different story for a different day.

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A Little Helping Hand. (2019, Feb 14). Retrieved from