A year passes.
A year ago, I tried to help someone. A year ago I made a crucial mistake which has held the last 12 months in a tight grip of guilt, worry, wondering if it would have ever gone right. I’ve seen the bottoms of a couple of overpriced, supposedly good bottles of malt, had the same in number of sleepless nights, seen the people involved in faces I’ve walked passed in the street, in shops, on-line.
Today I decided to start a 2-month long closure of this chapter in my life; with university just over the hill it would do me well to start with a clear conscience. I wrote a brief, formal apology to the person I tried to help, asking if he might offer me some forgiveness in a matter that has irreversibly changed both our lives. I left it open for him to decide whether he wanted to or not. Either way – it takes a weight off my chest knowing that message got through.
“Forgiveness is the fragrance that the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it.”
– Mark Twain.
So, now, with any luck, I am a “Michael Clayton”. Taking my $50’s worth of taxi ride down the avenue, getting some air. I hope he leads a good life.