Tuesday, April 9, 2019

give thanks for what is good

Give thanks for what is good, even when you have been proved a fool.

Oh, wow.

Of course.

You have suffered loss—it’s that simple. To fail is utterly crushing.
You’re an idiot, Renée—only idiots risk loving people.

Was it worth it?

Is the letter about Mary good?

Why yes.

Is the postcard with the quiet words: I miss you very much, good?

Of course.

Are the memories—too many of them bitter and regrettable worth it?

It’s hard to say they are, when my heart stings from cruel words said and my eyes begin to burn with tears from having passion met with such a callous, cold indifference and my cheeks flush with hot anger and my brain begins to tell me the old story of my self-righteous hurt at the audacity of hands and tongues to making promises and laying claim to my body without intent to keep the promises or pieces—

You were a fool, of course, to believe them.

But thank God for that.

Guilt grabs my throat and I cry, not the bitter, swollen tears of loss, or the angry, hot tears of the raging scorned, but I cry because I did not hold another human gently, and I did not realize, as I read through the law students complaining about their massive amounts of work, describing symptoms, reactions, fights, and pains I recognize, which I was on the other side of. I cry, I suppose because of remorse, because of failure. To have failed to be good to someone; to have failed at understanding.

I know it is springtime, because my winter time duvet has begun again to sweat at night.

I know it is springtime, because there is a dogwood tree blooming on Broadway and there is free ice cream.

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