The Gift of Honesty

Makeba Wilson

Are there still honest people? Honesty goes beyond the appearance, and it's a rich inner moral, that deserves respect from anyone who acts on it. Without honesty, there is no foundation upon which to build trust. Despite the transitions in life, which sometimes causes people to facilitate, honesty can still reign within every individual. It's an intentional characteristic that is used by making a choice, and initiated by considering someone else above yourself. It's infectious to those around us and creates a boomerang effect, which invokes originality. Last July in 2015, I found out honesty was more than a good idea. It was transformational.

My family and I were in Detroit for a weekend excursion and there I stood with my Hawaiian printed tunic, ready to explore. It was a scorching hot summer's day, perfect for a day to be outside. My mother, daughter, and I visited Belle Isle Park. My mother, the practical one, who was always worried about the price, suggested we should go, since it was free. My daughter, on the other hand, was the witty one, who kept us billowing in laughter no matter where we went. She is the total opposite of her mother, who is very reserved. As soon as we arrived, we walked on the grassy land, everywhere it was green and the smell of fresh pine encompassed the bushes and mature trees. The sunlight seeped through the bearing lateral branches to fall on the grass. It was calm and peaceful everywhere, people came to the park with their families to breathe and let it all go. Near the far end of the park, away from the tennis courts, was an interactive play yard for children, and the sounds of a musical carousel resounded from afar. Swings, slides, and play horses were there. We were filled with anticipation as we contemplated on the exhibits to settle on.

"Let's go to the aquarium first!" I said, with a childlike excitement.

"We haven't seen sea life in a long time!" said my mother and daughter.

As we entered the granite door of the aquarium, the smell of ocean fish smacked us dead in the face. The lights were dimmed, but the natural day light shown through the solar panels in the ceiling. It was more than we expected; a sea of fish, big, small, and every kind that could be imagined. On the whole, we were so fascinated with the exotic fish of the aquarium we'd left and their seamless aquatic flow, they all had different characteristics and lived their own lives in enormous tanks. Afterwards, we huddled for a few group selfies by a large canvas embellished with fish and a water like backdrop. A set of twin siblings giggled as we made pucker fish lip faces in a pose. The graceful laughter from the visitors inside the aquarium was boisterous and free.

Before long, we reminisced about our sociable seaside outing, as we entered the parking lot. We glanced over the countless cars to remember where we'd parked.

"We parked in row 2G, Mom," said my daughter. "Follow me!" She kept walking on the polished pebbles.

"Are you sure? This is row 2," I said hesitantly. My daughter and I started walking faster as my mother shuffled behind us.
"Here it is, over here," said my mother.

"Finally!" I replied, as I stood on my tippy toes to see around all of the people in each row.

I reached for the keys to our dull grey Honda and plopped inside with a sigh of relief. I could feel the sticky sweat beaded up on my forehead. The searing heat radiated from under my hat and I sweltered from the blistering rays. My mother's salt and pepper hair was drenched and stuck to her face like an old waxy candle. She inched towards the doorway as her legs bowed inward. My daughter's face shown like a light from the pouring sweat that ran down her left brow. I was ready for the rush of cold arctic air to whistle and blow around us. Finally, a chance to stare at the unforgettable pictures that we took that will last for a lifetime. I clutched the front pocket of my purse to grab my phone, when suddenly anxiety knotted my stomach.

"Where is my phone?" I said spastically.

"You didn't leave it in there did you?" said my mother.

"I vaguely remember laying it down after our last photo," I replied with despair. "The aquarium is closed!"

As I breathed deep and slow, I tucked my long, brown hair, behind my right ear and tried to think of the last photo we took. I maneuvered through the parking lot to get closer to the entrance door. For that moment, time stood still, the distance to the door seemed ten miles away. As I walked swiftly, up the crooked, cracked sidewalk, I could hear my heart beat through my chest with every step I took.
"Please God, let someone have turned my phone in," I said with a quivery voice.

I felt embarrassed and held the tears back as I started to run towards the door, knowing it was locked. Every thought I could think of raced through my head. I just got this phone, it's not paid off, it's not locked, and all of my family pictures are on there. I took miniature steps as I climbed each one, lethargy gripped my legs from the apprehension of my loss. Fear gripped my hands before I even attempted to knock on the transparent glass. Suddenly, I embraced the courage and began to pound. The closed sign was adjacent to the door and stared me right in the face, I tucked my head in shame as cars drove by. As I looked intently through the grimy window, I saw a male worker talking to a young lady. I pounded harder in desperate hope that he would turn around and recognize me. The clanging echo from the cold glass sounded like a faint cymbal under water. To no avail, I knocked for what seemed like eternity. As I peered through the little crack in the seam, I made eye contact with a short haired boy who was sweeping the floor. I perked up with a rush of intensity, could this be the moment in my suspense? As I stared in hope, he waved, smiled, and kept walking.

My head dropped in disbelief, I shook my head with total discouragement, the hairs on my neck erected from the distress of my loss. Subsequently, as I lifted my head, I made eye contact with a dark haired, tall woman who was holding a trash bag. I waved my hands like the propeller in a fan. My eyes lit up with cheer and at the same time her face was brightened with a smile. I had her attention and I attempted to talk through the glass, on the other hand, it felt like a dream. As she stood at the top of the steps, I flagged for her to move forward, she paused and switched the trash bag to the other hand. The blink in my eye made her movement slow down and seem surreal. Through our silent language, she held up a phone with an inquiring look in her eyes. My heart raced and skipped ten beats, I was in utter amazement as I stood with my mouth gaped open. She glided down the steps and opened the door, to my surprise. In a calm, still voice she uttered," "I knew we would meet again, someone reported a lost phone in the photo booth and I knew you would be back to get it."
I gently grabbed her slightly wrinkled hands and expressed my humble gratitude as the salty tears ran down my long narrow face. I felt so blessed and I appreciated the fact that no one capitalized on my mistake. As I headed back to the car, I bowed my head and began to thank God for answering my prayer. I leaped with joy as high as the sky, and my mother and daughter knew right away, and they cheered with exuberant laughter as someone had saved the day.

Are there honest people? Being honest is always possible and it's a valuable gift. Honesty isn't easily contained, or limited to one part of life, it's contagious. Being honest takes courage and character and it can happen whenever, wherever, and however. I regretted the thought that honesty doesn't exist. This experience changed my perspective that there is honesty around us. Honesty is spread one thought, word or action at a time, and it is a foundation in life. Honesty is a positive stance, and it reflects attitude, that frees the conscience, and allows the inner beauty to glow. In helping others we help ourselves. Let the gift of honesty revolve beyond lim