Can You Guess the Assignment?

He walked in and everyone shared a reaction of displeasure. His spirits fell. No one wanted him to come. If it was like last tyme, they would tolerate his presence, simply because they had to, but not without their share of under-the-breath comments containing snide remarks and over-the-breath comments dressed as lame attempts of humor at his expense. The obvious truth was, he was not wanted there.

It was a difficult truth for him to handle, for their feelings toward him were not always that of displeasure and disdain.  He had always come to them, on tyme and bearing new ideas and possibilities, but somewhere along the way, their good opinion of him soured. Now, his mere presence brought them nothing but distaste.

He longed to comprehend this terrible truth, to figure out what happened to alter their opinion of him, but he had his own truth that trumped his desire to understand. He had to come. That was his truth, an undeniable fact that they would realize if they were honest with themselves. They would see it and stop blaming him and resist the urge to use the thought or site of him as a focal point for their frustration.

He had to come. Why couldn’t they understand and appreciate his presence? After all, he was just like the others. He had the same look, the same build; in fact, the only differences between him and the ones they loved were his name and the tyme he arrived. Could such things really cause them to dislike him as they did?  Surely not. Surely they could recognize his likeness to the others. Surely they would not allow such insignificant details to create the prejudice they had toward him. But if not that, then what?

As he made his way through the crowd, he held his head high and acted as he always had. He smiled and offered them blessings in abundance.  He gave them his tyme and all the beauty within him. Still, they treated him with disdain and did not, or perhaps could not, appreciate all the opportunities he afforded them.

Later, after he endured their insolence for his required amount of tyme, he packed up his things and, as he made his way to the exit, listened to the sighs of relief and cheers that his leaving prompted. They were happy to see him go. Though his heart ached at the realization, he did not hold their ignorance against them.  He simply thought how horrible it had to be to live as they did, with such an inability to enjoy the moment because it didn’t come packaged as they wanted. Alas, their jaded perception of him forced them to miss out on so many blessings.

Finally, as he was completely gone from them, he smiled.  He would be back again, same tyme as always. He knew it. They knew it. They would have another chance. If only next tyme he could make them understand. If only next tyme he could help them learn to love and appreciate. If only next tyme…his name wasn’t Monday.