The Apology

The phone call was unpleasant and unwelcome. Shortly thereafter, the IM came as a bit of a surprise. When the text message came, I must admit I was feeling a bit out of sorts.

A line to apologize?

I was vindicated. For months I agonized. I knew I didn't do anything wrong. Yet still, I tortured myself; wondered just what I could have done that was so horrible.

I certainly had my theories... A third party perhaps? Jealousy at work? Worse?

However, it was not just one apology, but three. All from people that I once considered to be among my closest of friends.

Each situation was unique; each just as painful. Each apology left me both astonished and unsure as to how to proceed. Or if I even wanted to...

The phone call was prompted from an unpleasant text I received earlier in the day. I was in my office. I was expecting maybe an invitation to dinner for later that evening; sushi perhaps? We had only discussed it the night before.

I'm disappointed in you. U R loyal only when it's convenient for you. My body grew cold as I re-read the message. There was no warning, no preamble, just a series of groundless accusations.

A brief exhange of texts did nothing but leave me with a bitter taste in my mouth and a nauseated feeling in my gut. My hands started to shake as rage spread through out my body. I was accused, tried, and hung... through a text message. Heinous. I didn't even do it.

Lets talk this out later. The response a moment later was a short "ok".

When the hour came, instead of the calm talk I planned, the revoltion in my voice was palpable.

What the fuck? I started...

The conversation lasted for almost 30 minutes. In the end, the apology came. Of course I didn't do it... I never even thought about it. He said the matter was settled and he was happy we talked it out. While I quickly agreed, I considered the emotional hole left in my heart.

The IM later that night was even more surprising. Our association started several months prior as a promising friendship. Yes, it maybe went a bit too far. But I didn't see anyone complaining. It was fun. I knew what I was getting into, I was comfortable. He assured me that it was fine. The correspondence continued long after he left and our friendship developed.

Then it all stopped. We can't talk any more.

And that was it. No real explanation. All communication ended; the numbers changed, mail was returned undeliverable. Eventually, I gave up. Months later, he was forgotten.

The IM came in just as I was getting ready for bed.

I was hoping I'd see you here. I've been looking for you. I wanted to apologize. It was a shitty thing to do. Indignant memories flickered as I painstakingly considered my response. Ignore it? Reply? Evenually, I sent a message back. He was in town; it was his last night. He wanted to explain.

Want to grab a beer so we can talk? I agreed to the drink. Why? I don't know. I met him at a local pub an hour later. I was skeptical. The curiousity was killing me.

A bottle of wine sat in between us; his words were deliberate. Even thought I didn't like the explanation, in the end it made sense. He apologized a dozen times. It seemed genuine. I have been fooled before. Glad to have resolution, I was still unclear as to the overall motivation.

The bolt from the blue, however, came the following night. The text message. It was a number I didn't recognize. I deleted it out of my phone a year previously. I reluctantly forgot about its owner. I was certain that I'd never hear from him again.

I wanted to say sorry for the way I treated you.

One of the most distant and painful memories brought back the surface... A friend stuck in between two former lovers. The fight was resentful. The end was bitter. I didn't intend for him to be there. I tried to respect his position in the middle. I thought I was doing a decent job. Apparently I wasn't. Although, I never thought anything I did was the real reason why he moved out of the middle.

Several messages back and forth revealed that he'd kept up with my life. Several more messages and we were chatting like old friends at a high school reunion.

Cautiously, I proceed. He never did reveal why he choose a side or what prompted the sudden apology. He danced over the issue and moved forward.

Does it really matter?

Maybe. There are many reasons to apologize. Sincerity. To bury the hatchet. To acknowledge one's mistakes.

To relieve guilt.

I am left to wonder about the movation and the timing. Why now? Coincidence? New knowledge?

Long ago, I patched over the holes in my soul; forced myself to stop replaying the final moments looking for the fatal mistake. I sealed the memories away. Each of the conversations brought the incidents back to the surface. The apologies left me feeling exonerated.

I have forgiven each of them. Maybe in time, I'll even forget...

For Sale

I don't know why it happened this morning, but I woke up nostalgic. There was nothing particularly remarkable that I can attribute to causing it. But, it was a good feeling.... like everything was right in the world. I smiled.

Even though it had been more than a year, it seemed so natural to resume my old routine... It was very early, even by the old military standards. I rolled out of bed and walked to the open window. The breeze coming through the screen was fresh. Still lost in a memory, I watched the sun rise for a minute.

I could hear the words echoing off the now silent walls. Hurry up, we can't waste the day. The familiar ritual seemed so natural, a frenzy of action. Dusting, cleaning, washing... all before the neighborhood even started to rise. The smells of oil soap and wood polish permeating the air.

Spotless.

Still lost in the fog of my reminiscence, I moved outside to wash the truck. Different from the ones in my nostaglia, but I washed the new truck with the same care and attention to detail as the previous ones.

As the truck got scrubbed inside and out, I could hear the metallic jingle of a dog collar behind me. I looked around expectantly, anticipating seeing her golden face smiling at me.

She wasn't there, of course. It was just a passerby with a poodle on the other side of the street.

Now, fully immersed in thoughts of long ago, I showered quickly. As if on queue, my stomach rumbled as I pulled on a shirt and shorts. I absently jumped in the truck and hardly noticed the passing streets on the short drive to the Diner.

As I walked through the door, I was greeted by familiar smells of breakfast. It wasn't quite the same, but I hardly noticed as I completed the familiar route to my table. I was absently disappointed to see new faces behind the counter.

A server that I knew stopped at my table to ask if I was ordering my "usual pancakes". Although I knew who she confused me for, I smiled politely at her and shook my head no.

Not today. I never ordered pancakes.

Breakfast arrived burned, the coffee was cold, and the waitress seemed to have forgotten me. I ate slowly. My nostalgia seemed to be developing some hairline cracks. It seemed... peculiar.

As I waited unendingly for the check, an uneasy feeling crept into my tummy. It might have been the not-quite-right eggs. Maybe not. I looked closer at my surroundings. The walls were painted a different color, the customers unrecognizable, the smell in the air was far greasier than I remembered.

It was getting remarkably harder to hold on to the memories that I had been enjoying just a few minutes previously. I felt them dissolving around me as the harsh reality crept in. Another flutter in my stomach made up my mind.

I wanted to see it.

Standing only two blocks away, it embodied the core of my growing melancholy. Over the years, I spent more time there than any place else. So much happened there....

I paid for my breakfast, tipped the waitress minimally for her dismal service and jumped in my truck. I was focused on one thing only, that I had to see it. I drove the two blocks carefully. I certainly didn't want any attention.

As I rounded the corner, it was immediately visible. I approached slowly, fighting off nausea. I wasn't so sure anymore that I should be there. My mind screamed at me to turn around but my hands stayed steady on the wheel. I saw it.

It looked vacant and run down. There was a sign firmly planted in the center of the lawn...

For Sale

The raw emotion was like electricity. The nostalgia was gone, replaced by a whole host of other emotions. Anger. Hurt. Relief. It will be gone, and presumably soon.

Sold to the highest bidder. Its contents reduced to mere curious salvage. And like the Diner, it will only be a shell of what it was in the past. Walls painted over, the counters replaced and new unfamiliar faces inside.

Bags of trash were already stacked up haphazardly and waiting to be taken away. I felt wounded; like I, too, had been placed on the corner, forgotten and meaningless. I pulled away from the curb and headed east into the morning sun, thoughts swirling through my mind.

Minutes later, I found myself in parked in my own driveway. My thoughts had been replaced by ethereal calm and on the day ahead of me. I left my memories of that different time on the curb of that old place with the other thoughtlessly discarded debris.

I am sure someone with a fresh perspective will buy it and whitewash over the traces of its previous existance. I hope they do.

As for me, I will not look back.

The Twisted Mile

Twisting, turning, winding. I can't see ahead of me. I am only vaguely aware of the rocky path before me. Indistinct figures and shapes are on the periphery of my vision. I look hard, but I can't quite make out what's coming next.

I stumble, fall.

Another setback. It seems like the thousandth time. I don't want to get up again, but I force myself to stand.

At least this time I didn't get hurt. I take a deep breathe and look calmly around. Fortunately this time nobody saw me trip.

Good, I mutter to myself, I still have my dignity intact. I brush the dust and dirt off. One foot in front of the other and I start moving again.

The journey so far has been difficult. I don't specificially remember starting on it. I don't even remember having a choice. It was a long time ago.

I reflect on the twists and turns of the trail so far.

Fortunately, so many of my unpleasant memories have fogged to a haze of mostly pleasant thoughts and recollections. It just seemed so easy back then. It wasn't too long ago that I was moving very quickly; the path seemed clear and bright. I tumbled occationally then too. It just didn't seem like such a big deal.

I have to keep reminding myself that it certainly isn't the first time that I've had to slow down; to step back in order to find my way back to the right course.

I smile to myself now as a memory tugs at my mind. I recall how confident I was just a few years ago. Running full speed ahead, the sun shining brightly, the path seemed so clear.

I climbed on an old stone staircase. There were a thousand people around; I was dimly aware of them. I was only paying attention to the one person 10 feet in front of me, my travel companion at the time. I was just trying to keep up with him, taking two or three stairs at a time.

Somehow, I managed to fall over my own feet. I was horrified as I crashed loudly on the ground. I watched my companion turn around and conceal a smirk as I sat there on the stairs holding my knee and bleeding profusely. It hurt, but I wasn't about to admit that.

A helpful tourist wandering by offered me Purell. Like an idiot, I squeezed a dollup right on the gash in my knee. It stung like like a hundred bee stings.

I gasped. I was embarassed. I was surrounded by people and I wanted to cry. Instead, I gulped, gritted my teeth, and got up. I pretended like it was just a big joke.

Don't laugh... it hurt!

The destination that I travel to now? Well, I'm not entirely sure...

In my journey so far, I've traversed some of the most beautiful and delightful terrain as well as some of the most precarious and hazardous paths. I have had some wonderful experiences, and some terrible ones.

I have travelled with many people, some longer than others. I've loved, laughed, and learned. I've been hurt and beaten down. I've cried and ultimately recovered. I keep moving forward, dusting myself at each turn. Smiling.

I have a vague idea of how far I've come, but I can't accurately judge how much farther I've got to go. I'm sure I'd even want to. I know I'm probably not close at all... In fact, I'm reasonably sure I have not even crossed the half-way point.

I don't regret any of the choices I've made on my journey so far. Perhaps I would have made different turns; done things differently. I don't know.

The only certainty that I have now is that both good and bad, I will continue moving forward along the twisted mile.