Forgiveness

Well, this has not been the auspicious start to the New Year I had hoped for. I've been engrossed in the shelf paper letter. I know, I know, I said I would only take the best parts with me. I talk a good game.

I had to go through the emotions; let the words settle in, macerate. I wondered if I should post a recipe or a lyric to a song, just to give you a hook to hang your hat on. But, that seemed disingenuous. I couldn't even work on my book; everything changed.

And then I wondered, will I ever write again? But, slowly, I began to see the humor in this. I mean really, how many people get a letter on a roll of shelf paper?

While sharing the sordid details with my aunt she said, calmly, and let me just say she does not suffer fools easily, "She never sent it."

She continued, "Your mother didn't want to hurt you and probably put it away after venting and forgot about it. You did talk to her after 1976." Well, technically, I reminded her that my mother did not really start talking to me again until 1979. And as stubborn as I wanted to be in my brooding, I began to forgive her and just as importantly, forgive myself.