Guess Who's Back
by Keith Zimmer  

 Guess who's back. Back again, Keith is back, back again. Okay, enough with the corny Eminem introduction. It has been almost four months since the last time I provided a commentary to this wonderful publication—and I must say it's great to be back. I must apologize to those that read my column faithfully; between graduating high school, working, and planning for college it has been a very long and busy four months.

 In my absence I almost lost touch with how much I love writing this column. Being able to express my opinions and help people in the process gives me an indescribable rush. One specific event brought me back to where I was supposed to be; it was the kind of defining moment that comes along once in a life time, the moment where one realizes why they were put on this earth. This event was like no other in my life, one that touched my heart, one that I will never forget. 

 It was a typical night at Mario's Pizza, nothing special, nothing out of the ordinary—I was just working at a solid, steady pace. Out of nowhere I hear my boss calling my name, her voice un-assuming, almost unsure. On the surface I thought maybe I had done something wrong and would now be reprimanded for it. As I make my way over to the counter I am told there is someone who would like to see me. As I make my way over to the register I see an elderly women with tears in her eyes. At this point I was frantic I thought to myself could I have possibly offended this women somehow—I had no idea what I was about to hear would change me, once again. All of a sudden she looks up at me with tears in her eyes and proceeds to tell me that she is the grandmother of Jarid Henry and that the article I wrote about her deceased grandson last summer was one of the few things that helped carry her through that summer. 

 Ever since that moment about two weeks ago I have been in a daze; I have thought to myself does my writing really make a difference? Can it make a difference? Is this why I was created? This event certainly raised so many un-answered questions within my heart and soul. The thought that I actual helped fill someone's emotional void is unbelievable; a feeling which is undescribable. I thank Jarid's Grandmother from the bottom of my heart for she has helped me re-discover the passion that drives me—that is the best gift one could ever receive.

 The moral of this story is if you as a reader have not found your passion, seek and you shall find. Everyone has a passion some just haven't realized it yet. I lost my passion—but thanks to a lovely grandmother I feel re-born, and ready to serve whoever needs me. After writing this I can honestly say I have my passion, do you?

 If you have any questions or comments about this column please contact me at keithzimmer@yahoo.com

This article is dedicated once again to the memory of Jarid Henry (Gone, but never forgotten).