College Life: A Shame of Pride
Today, I’m ashamed that someone was proud of me. Felicia and I had just seen Black Panther (which I’ll talk about in another post) and were walking out of the theater toward my car. During the movie, it began to snow a lot, so afterwards I had to brush the snow off of my car. Next to me, a woman who had just came from the same showing as us was doing the same thing I was doing. We struck up a conversation about how some kids in her family had never seen snow because they were from Florida and when they visited here it had never snowed for them, how she had a friend from Africa who marveled at snow when she saw it for the first time, and how one of the first presents my dad ever got my mom was a brush for her car. I also offered to help her brush her car off, but she said she was fine and didn’t need the help – which I knew would be her answer because she seemed like she had a good handle on what she was doing. Felicia (my girlfriend, for those of you who don’t know) said she ...