I learned at an early age the freedom and satisfaction one can experience from truth. When I was in the fourth grade an incident took place which I believe changed me from an outspoken extrovert into a shy and withdrawn child. One day, immediately after my last class, I ran to the school bus so that I would be the first person on the bus. My eagerness had to do with getting home soon and not missing my favorite cartoons. As usual, I sat next to a window and looked out all during the bus ride, entertained by the life outside. When the driver approached Dolores Park, she suddenly stopped by an apartment which was next to a butcher shop on San Jose Avenue and 30th Street. She then opened the school bus door and let in a man. From that moment on, a drama ensued as the bus driver and her friend started yelling at each other. Soon the screaming turned into physical violence. The man first shook the bus driver by her shoulders then he hit her and spat on her face. I was sitting only three rows behind and could hear loud and clear the words spoken and the sounds they made. My initial thought was that the man was going to kill my bus driver and I would never get home on time for my favorite cartoon. However, that thought lasted no more than a minute as I became fearful that the man would also come after me. Isn’t that what always happens? Murderers get rid of all eye-witnesses. Paralized by fear, I managed enough strength to slide further down in the seat, and did my very best to become invisible. When I got home I had forgotten to watch my favorite cartoon and instead I went to bed, hoping to forget what happened on the bus. Once in bed, a mixture of emotions overcame me. I felt like an accomplice of the man for not having said or done anything in defense of the woman bus driver. I knew then, I would go to jail. I also felt like a coward. I had seen bullies in the school yard and always thought that, when confronted by the sight of one bullying someone else, I would intervene in defense of the victim, but that had not happened on the bus. I then thought I would have to move to another city to escape the murderer or the police, but I was too young to have any money and go anywhere on my own.
Besides, how would I leave my mother and grandfather? For the next two years I lived in hiding and in extreme fear of being found out by the man who, surely, wanted to kill me. I stopped going out to play and became sullen and withdrawn. Even though I tried very hard to forget about it, I could not. One day, I summoned all the courage I had and I finally told my mom and grandfather. As I finished recounting the story I felt an almost instantaneous sense of well-being, as if a great weight, which I had been lugging around, had been lifted off my shoulders. Soon after I forgot entirely about the incident and it is not until now, many years after, that I think of it again.
Telling the truth truly set me free. Ever since that moment I try to be honest and truthful with every person I meet.
