Part Two

In one of the writing classes I'm taking this semester, I'm learning about how to write non-fiction. All kinds of non-fiction. While we're currently working on a memoir, we were challenged to write about a moment that "stopped us in our tracks". When I think on this cliche, I am reminded of something I read for that class. The author of the article encouraged writers to use every part of their lives as subjects, everything can be turned into something. So, while I am not the type to mix business and pleasure, I want to write about someone I met at my job. Someone who changed my outlook on life.

I have worked as a server in a local store of a corporate-run restaurant for three years now. Every September, we do a fundraiser for St. Jude's Children's Hospital, which, for those who don't know, is a hospital located in Memphis that specializes in childhood cancer. (Cancer is a big deal to me, as my mom died with it when I was 19 years old.) Last September, a little boy came into our restaurant who was diagnosed with neuroblastoma, which I found out (after google-ing it) is a cancer that hits children. It can be found anywhere in the body, but it is usually not found until after it has already spread. Back to the boy.

His name is Ethan. While he has never been in St. Jude's, one of my manager's felt a special pull to this little boy, and we have made him our mascot. One year after we first met him, Ethan is now working some weekend shifts as a "server" in an effort to help raise money for children like him. He is ten years old.

I got the honor to actually meet and work alongside Ethan two weeks ago. I wasn't feeling well, so I was going into work with a bad attitude, just ready to leave. Ethan walked into the restaurant, and I stopped. I couldn't feel bad anymore. I had to lose the attitude. Here was a little boy who could be mad about everything. His childhood was gone, he was sick. Yet he was so full of life. He was cracking jokes, on my boss and my co-workers, nonetheless! Ethan found out September 13, last Tuesday, that he is in remission. I've worked with him again since then, and he was exactly the same. Cracking jokes, working hard to help other kids struggling with the same fight he's fighting. My life is changed.

This may seem like something that could change anyone's outlook, at least for a little while. But I honestly believe that everytime I think of this little boy so bravely fighting for his life, I'm reminded how blessed I am in mine.