From The Grave II
Today’s entry from the past was written in July 2000. It is about relationships and betrayal:
I held her head in my hands this morning and whispered, “I forgive you.”
She had made me so angry last night that I couldn’t bear to look at her. The evening was spent in steely silence, as I replayed her betrayal over and over in my mind. She had taken away the one thing I wanted most with no regard to my feelings, and I wanted her to suffer for it.
I went to bed upset, always the wrong thing to do, cringing from her attempts at physical contact. When I awoke this morning to see her warm brown eyes sadly seeking forgiveness, however, I finally realized what an obstinate jerk I was being. She’s family, and she will always be more important than any other thing the world may provide.
I know she’s just a dog, but it was a damn good turkey sandwich.
In some future version of this, you must repost your open letter to your former upstairs neighbor.
hey, how’s about you stop resting on your laurels and actually write something new?
Yes, Mom.