This I Believe
“I never thought your Grandmother could move so fast,” Mom blurted out. We had just been talking about my ATV accident. I had been ten years old, reckless. My family had just started out on a quad biking trip and my mother had told me to avoid the potholes, at least I thought that’s what she’d said she had actually told me to ignore the potholes. We were only one minute from the house when we started onto unpaved road. I did what I thought my mother ignored me. I looked ahead of my bike and spied a decent sized pothole and swerved to the right. To bad I hadn’t been paying attention to my peripheral vision because I ended up riding down an 85-degree angle! Luckily I jumped off and nothing seriously happened to me. But my grandma was the first one off her bike.
My grandma didn’t let her age or arthritis stop her from moving the fastest. This is why I believe desperate times call for desperate measures.
As a little girl I was terrified of being bullied; and of course it happened. My friend Jane was being verbally harassed and she had only told me because I found her crying. I told her to tell a teacher or parent, but of coarse she didn’t want to get into more trouble from the bully.
Eventually I pulled her aside and told her desperate times call for desperate measures, because I couldn’t keep watching her getting tormented. She went to her father and told him about the bullying situation. In less than a week and the bullying stopped. I finally saw Jane come to school with a smile.
Hearing of other people’s problems, that my belief could help, makes me sad. I would love to put my arms around them and whisper in a steady voice desperate times call for desperate measures; this I believe.
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