Pride Goeth Before The Fall February 8, 2016Posted by Laura in Uncategorized.
In the December that my mother turned 19 a young, half blind man, made his way across the dance floor with the intention of asking her to dance. He was faced with a few problems.
He had taken off his glasses once he figured out where she was. He walked to her, knowing where she was when he had seen her last with the knowledge that once he got close enough he would be able to see her properly but before that it was a point and shoot exercise. She could be gone by the time he got there and he wouldn’t have seen her leave. He also knew, as he walked, that she might say no. They had danced together that Summer, the Summer of 1962, but he wasn’t sure she would say yes again.
If he got there and discovered that she had left he could easily recover and no one would know.
If she said no, he was lost. Quite literally, lost. He had taken off his glasses. If she said no and he turned to leave he had no idea where to leave to.
Pride came in the way of his ability to deal with rejection.
Thankfully she didn’t say no.