Pacing.

Speed can be calculated by dividing the distance traveled by the time passed. Sound travels at 340 meters per second. Light travels even faster at a speed of 300 million meters per second. When someone is “speeding”, it means that they are going over the speed limit. All of these examples are those which relate the word “speed” to something that moves very fast. However, it leads me to wonder why most people unconsciously relate this word to meaning fast. Think about it, can’t speed also be as closely related to something that is moving at a slow pace? This story is one which incorporates the idea of speed into life, love, and death. There had been many shows dealing with racing to explore the world that is fast, but this story will also deal with its counterpart, the world that is slow. Speed isn’t only what is fast; it is also what is slow.

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Everyone has their hobbies, an activity to help them deal with their problems or help them to temporarily forget about those problems. Most of the elderly like to spend their day knitting with needles or whittling away on a piece of wood. However, I’m only twenty-three and I don’t believe that I qualify as an elderly just yet. For most of my peers, their hobbies would be sport related, either a spectator or a player in some game. I like to run. Not in an athletic way, of course. I’m not one to be called an athlete. The reason for that is most plausibly because of the past that will be forever associated with me.

Seven years ago, I was not as physically fit and fast as I am now. This always seems to perplex nearly all of the people I meet today, but it is absolutely true. I was in danger of becoming obese and, although growing up in as rushed a city as New York, enjoyed taking my sweet time doing everyday activities. I didn’t think that taking my time to do things was anything negative. Doing this enabled me to further appreciate nature’s true beauty and the beauty of life itself. Seven years ago was when I met the person who would change my pace in life.

Everything moved ever so slowly around me and that’s how one of the best things in my life happened. I still remember every word said verbatim, every motion took place, the smell that was in the air, and all the vibrations I felt. It was a Tuesday; I will always remember the day. Like nearly all Tuesdays in my life, it was a typical day in school. I was late to my first four classes.

My day became atypical on my way to fifth period. The late bell just rang. I was destined to be late to my fifth class, English literature, and I was. I was the only person left on the third floor, or so I thought. There was one other person left in the hallway, a very familiar stranger. From the looks of it, she was having trouble with her locker. She rested her arms on her locker and hit her head on it. The sound that resonated from that hit was louder and more effective of a sound than any alarm clock on the market could have made. If I woke up to that sound every morning, I would never be late to school again. Of course, I was also in shock.

I walked up to her in my usual slow pace as she sluggishly sat down on the floor. It was the look of absolute defeat. She gave up, only misfortunes in her future she thought as she stared at the blue tiles on the floor. “Are you in need of any assistance?” I said as I looked at the top of her head, every pigment on her hair glistening in my eyes. It may have been the light or it may have been that she was just so beautiful. Yes, beautiful is undoubtedly the right word for it. Look pretty today, but stay beautiful forever.

She looked up ever so slowly and stared at me the same way she did the tiles on the floor. She had such a confused look about her at that moment that she might as well have had question marks of every size and all the colors of the spectrum floating all around her. “Yes, I can’t seem to… these lockers are stupid. They’re so hard to open that it’s a wonder how people can steal things from other people’s lockers”

“Ha ha ha ha ha. I think I can help with that.” I worked on her combination lock and after a few turns of the knob, I unlocked it. “That’s how they steal from lockers. I guess the two months I spent working at a locksmith paid off after all.” I said as she stood behind me with an amazed look on her face.

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Everything went by in a rate I was unfamiliar with after that day, quick. We dated throughout the rest of High School and went to universities that were very, very close to each other so that we may visit one another as often as we can. She attended The University of Pennsylvania to become a Medical Scientist and I attended Drexel University to study Industrial Engineering. It was time for winter vacation in our second year in college and, like as always, she and I drove our way back to New York. I always drove since she was always “too tired” to drive. I knew that she just didn’t want to drive because she once said to me, “I love road trips, but only when I’m not driving.”

It was a year of blizzards. There would be a blizzard at least twice a week. The snow from these blizzards would just pile up on top of each other. The number and frequency of plows you sent to plow the roads made no difference. This made it hard for my compact, little sedan to get through the tall, thick snow. My wipers and headlights were no defense against the heavy fall of clustered of snow. “Drive slower,” she said with the strong voice she always had “you can barely see a foot ahead of you.”

On our exit, I turned on my turning signal. As you can see, contrary to what everyone always said about my driving, I deserved my license. There was no point in turning the signal on because of this snow, I thought. I was right. I found out I was right in the worst way I could’ve have never imagined. Turns out, I was not the only one who had trouble driving. There was chaos on the roads that I just couldn’t see it through the falling snow.

I slowly turned towards the exit as she had advised to, but I turned too soon. What I didn’t know and wished I did know at the time was that there was a pile of snow plowed on the side of the exit. My car got stuck in that pile of snow. Those plow drivers were obviously not smart enough to think about the best place to put all that snow. We were stuck there for more than three minutes. We were sunk into that huge pile of snow by this huge truck that did not know its direction and, like me, could barely see a foot of road ahead. The point of impact was intense. I still have nightmares of this day. The day the one I loved first and always died.

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I wish it was me in her place. She had a brighter future than me. She was going to be a medical scientist. She could’ve cured all incurable diseases out there as a researcher or passed on her knowledge and experiences to her students as a professor. What good can an industrial engineer do compared to that? I guess He had different plans. She died too early, that I know for sure.

Funerals are always filled with people saying great things about the person who had just died. Hearing all those nice things did not help me. They just made things much worse. She was loved by many so many guests came to her viewing. Everyone told me that she looked beautiful in her coffin. She did look beautiful, she always had, but she did not look her best. She looked her best whenever she had a smile on. It didn’t matter what clothes she wore.

Many of the guests tried to tell me that they know how I felt, but they were all wrong. However, they were right about one thing. I felt like giving up. I felt like I’ve failed her and I could not fix it now. It was not at all like failing an exam in school. There was no make-up test. I had no idea what to do next. The future I once desired can no longer be possible.

Her older brother was the one who knew this best. Maybe it was because he felt the same way when his best friend died three years ago. Because of the tragic death of this friend, he gained a lot of wisdom about giving up and mourning the dead. He sat beside me and told me something that I have lived by ever since.

“She loved you to death. I hope you know that about my little sister.” he began, “I know she wouldn’t want you to waste your life away because of her. She would’ve wanted you to live on so don’t get any ideas.” He knew just what was going through my mind. “If I’ve learned anything these past three years, it would have to be not giving up and seizing all the opportunities that are presented to you.” He continued. “Imagine a long hallway. For this particular hallway, it takes a lot of time and effort to reach the end. At that end, there is a door. It is a plain door that is white with a gold doorknob. You don’t know where this door leads. All you know is that it took a lot out of you to reach it. You have to then decide. Turn the doorknob and open a door leading to somewhere unknown or run back to where you came from and put all that time and energy to waste? If you choose to enter, you will be presented with endless opportunities. It is now your responsibility to seize those opportunities. If you choose not to enter or not to seize those opportunities after you have entered, you will lose those opportunities forever. Your choice.” I have lived by what he told me that day.

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I have graduated from college and obtained my degree in Industrial engineering a year ago. For the past year, I have been to many companies looking for a job, but none of them have been satisfying for me. I spent my days at work keeping everything organized and then I take the bus back to my messy home to write the night away. I spent hours writing about the love that was and the love that could have been.

One day at work, I was on my coffee break reading my book. One of the new employees, fresh out of college, introduced himself to me. I normally keep to myself during my coffee break because it is the only time I can relax and not feel so exhausted, but he seemed like such an optimistic guy to me. Always ready to help and always working hard. He began to talk to me about his girlfriend and how great she was. Aware that he does not know my past, I let him continue without complaints.

“Do you love someone?” He asks me.

“No, I don’t. I used to. I don’t anymore.”

“But don’t you need to love? How else are you going to have the courage to do… anything? Loving someone is the only thing that can give you enough courage to do anything in life.” He was right. I have no idea how I had the courage to do all the things I had. Maybe it was because I still loved her and that love was enough to bring me this far.

I’m a runner. I began my running habit the morning after her funeral. Every time I ran, I would imagine that I was running in this long hallway trying to reach that white door with the gold doorknob. It was a great lesson her brother tried to teach me on the day of her funeral. Sadly, I can’t live by that anymore. I don’t even want to live anymore.

Not giving up is life’s greatest lesson, I believe. From as simple as learning to ride that brand new bicycle to as complex as love, once you have completely given up on everything, your life is over. It is no longer worth living. This is the last story I will write. I will end my life the same way I have lived it, slowly. Everything will be faster once I’m by her side again.