On+Gratitude+contest

The Twenty Four Hour Fast

“C’mon, Erica, it’ll be easy. I did it when I was thirteen.” My friends cross their arms and look at me with a hint of expectancy. “I will! I will.” The girls roll their eyes anyway, still not believing me. I was going to show them this year; I could do it. “Watch me.”

Whenever I saw a homeless person on the street, I felt bad, but didn’t waste too much time on it. We can’t imagine what it feels like to be hungry all the time, but on the other hand, we don’t really //want// to know, either. Well, twenty four hours without food or water will tell you. Yom Kippur, one of the most important days of the entire Jewish year, is one that requires all adults to fast. I, being the “Jewish adult” I was, wanted to fast. Partly to prove to myself that I could do it... and partly just to prove it to my friends. Never in a thousand years did I think it would be such a contradiction. Over the course of twenty four hours, I went from a gnawing pain in my stomach to... nothing. I was used to the feeling of immense hunger, I realized. That was the scariest part. Once I began to get used to the emptiness where there once was none, the day was almost over. It was practically sundown and I could finally break my fast. I forgot the feel of eating, which was another disconcerting detail about the whole endeavor. To realize that my mouth is not only made for talking, but for chewing and swallowing too, is sensational. To remember the joy of eating and the fullness felt when you cannot eat anymore is elating. Once the high of dinner was over, I thought back to the homeless person I had so quickly forgotten about. I could relate to the emptiness, the lack of nutrients, and the loss of energy. That was the day I turned empathetic to them, instead of just sympathetic. And for that, I’m thankful. With only sympathy, I used to donate only a dollar or so to homeless people. With my new empathy, I saw how hard it really is to spend the whole day thinking about food, but never being able to eat any. Maybe Samuel Taylor Coleridge, of “Water, water, all around, but not a drop to drink” was on to something.

“Hey, Emily,” I said with confidence as I approached the same girl I had seen only a day before, “guess what?” A smirk on her face, she replied, “What?” “I did it.”

This was my submission to the On Gratitude contest the library held. It had to be under 500 words. The results come out tomorrow!