Popping by @ 8.50pm
A tiring day.
Stayed home to slack.
Went for a test drive for my new car
in the afternoon.
Daddy decided to get one car for me
cause he wants me to practice on my driving
and especially my parking.
-whahaha-
It's a Hyundai GETZ, almost similiar like Daddy's car,
but it has 4 doors, unlike Daddy's which has 2 only.
YEAH!
Having my stupid period now,
totally abhoring!
It's the 1st day only.
I can expect cramps and more suffering.
GRHHH! Irritating...
Forgiveness (Part 1)
Lisa sat on the floor of her old room, staring at the box that lay in front of her. It was an old shoe box that she had decorated to become a memory box many years before. Stickers and penciled flowers covered the top and sides. Its edges were worn, the corners of the lid taped so as to keep their shape. It had been three years since Lisa last opened the box. A sudden move to Boston had kept her from packing it. But now that she was back home, she took the time to look again at the memories. Fingering the corners of the box and stroking its cover, Lisa pictured in her mind what was inside. There was a photo of the family trip to the Grand Canyon, a note from her friend telling her that Nick Bicotti liked her, and the Indian arrowhead she had found while on her senior class trip. One by one, she remembered the items in the box, lingering over the sweetest, until she came to the last and only painful memory. She knew what it looked like--a single sheet of paper upon which lines had been drawn to form boxes, 490 of them to be exact. And each box contained a check mark, one for each time. "How many times must I forgive my brother?" the disciple Peter had asked Jesus. "Seven times?" Lisa's Sunday school teacher had read Jesus' surprise answer to the class. "Seventy times seven." Lisa had leaned over to her brother Brent as the teacher continued reading. "How many times is that?" she whispered. Brent, though two years younger, was smarter than she was. "Four hundred and ninety," Brent wrote on the corner of his Sunday school paper. Lisa saw the message, nodded, and sat back in her chair. She watched her brother as the lesson continued. He was small for his age, with narrow shoulders and short arms. His glasses were too large for his face, and his hair always matted in swirls. He bordered on being a nerd, but his incredible skills at everything, especially music, made him popular with his classmates. Brent had learned to play the piano at age four, the clarinet at age seven, and had just begun to play the oboe. His music teachers said he'd be a famous musician someday. There was only one thing at which Lisa was better than Brent--basketball. They played it almost every afternoon after school. Brent could have refused to play, but he knew that it was Lisa's only joy in the midst of her struggles to get C's and D's at school.Lisa's attention came back to her Sunday school teacher as the woman finished the lesson and closed with prayer. That same Sunday afternoon found brother and sister playing basketball in the driveway. It was then that the counting had begun. Brent was guarding Lisa as she dribbled toward the basket. He had tried to bat the ball away, got his face near her elbow,and took a shot on the chin. "Ow!" he cried out and turned away. Lisa saw her opening and drove to the basket, making an easy lay-up. She gloated over her success but stopped when she saw Brent. "You okay?" she asked. Brent shrugged his shoulders. "Sorry," Lisa said. "Really. It was a cheap shot." "It's all right. I forgive you," he said. A thin smile then formed on his face. "Just 489 more times though." "Whaddaya mean?" Lisa asked. To be continued...i'm going to smile like nothing's wrong,talk like everything's perfect,act like it's all a dream,and pretend it's not hurting me.
