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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Sad was a walking apology, she and I became study partners by default. No one wanted either of us. I was old, and Sad was quiet. The first thing I wanted to say was please hold your head up. Make eye contact. Smile, but I did not pressure her, and it was not happening. She barely spoke, and when she did, it was a frightened whisper. I could not believe Sad was my partner; to learn how to be counselors. We were soon forced into a weekly group counseling sessions, with a real counselor. It became clear right off the bat that Sad would not be speaking. Neither would I, so I did not hold that against her. We met for sixteen weeks, neither of us talking. I heard lots of barbed comments from the younger counselor-wanna-be's about how they could not figure out what someone my age was doing there. After all how could I relate to children? I was decrepitly old, being twice their age. I did not respond. I was silent. Sad finally broke her self-imposed silence the last two weeks of group work. Flood gates open, she sobbed and wailed, told us her life’s stories, all of them. They were heart-breaking. She was more forthcoming in group than she had ever been one to one. She dropped out of the counseling program two weeks before graduation, too ashamed to face us. I never saw her again, but I always hope that all that sobbing somehow helped. I wish I could see her on the street, head up, smiling, no longer sad.
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