I had an experience when I was in the second grade that has been in my memory all of my life since it happened. I’m sure there are memories good and bad that you have carried with you through time. Most generally the saying, “time heals,” is true but once in awhile something is not for gotten and the memory of the pain does not subside.

We were on the school playground at recess throwing a dodge ball. I went out for a long pass and with my head turned behind me to see the ball, I didn’t look where I was going. I ran into a steel pole that had a basket on top to toss balls in. I’ve seen the modern version of those baskets on playgrounds today and they are not nearly as primitive as they were back in the day.

The side of my head collided with the steel at a dead run and I remember the tremendous pain, then all went dark. I woke up where the teacher had laid me against the building. They were asking me if I was alright. Of course I wasn’t but I’m sure I said I was. My head was thumping with every beat of my heart, but there was no blood so they assumed I was fine. If there would have been blood, that would have been a visible sign of injury. They sent me home to get over my headache. (Things were different then.)

Could it be that we are always looking for outward signs of pain? Do we need to see a wound before we will admit it is there? Has this virus and separation from people we love wounded us in ways that are not obvious? How do we recognize these things and move forward?

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John Pfeifer