My Apology

To all whom may have been affected;

I, the king of backhanded insults and sarcastic wordplay, apologize to you, purest of the innocents, for the way we have interacted in the past few years.  I assure you that karma, although normally not immediately effective, has taken its toll on my spirit and mind, and I wish to express my remorse.  You may be unaware but my life has been so thoroughly misdirected that even at this very moment I am relaxing my head upon a pillow of mud.

In the past, I have used my fast wit and clever persiflage to conceal that, in actuality, I desired to be your mirror image.  I hoped that in time, my body would transform into yours and that together we would be two pedals to the same bicycle.  As time continued, I realized that your interest in my life became less, and in order to become noticed my subtleties needed to become more apparent, and my brashness became scars upon my own body for the world to see.  Subsequently, now anyone else I met would ask about my scars, and to them I replied in a manner so acrimonious that even I would shudder with distaste.  And so the proverbial snowball would roll down the mountainside quicker, gaining strength solely in its massive volume, and I, the core of the progressing nightmare, was unable to combat my own destructive nature.

For this, I write this formal atoning decree, to explain that I am experiencing great anguish about all I have done to you.  I truly only wished to be as delightful and forgiving as you, but alas, now you have not spoken to me in years and I only have myself to blame for these cicatrices.  I know you have moved onward in life, and without much consideration to when I was in yours, but hopefully this is the hatchet in our limping relationship and we can continue forward so I can try to prove that I am truly aspiring to be your analogue.

My sincerest apologies and usurp my throne, please, as the poison in my ear has dried up and you are its rightful heir. 

Sic sempre tyrannis. 

The Sunrise

"The sky is so blue," he turns to his mother, who is misty-eyed staring at the clouds above her, "Mommy," he tugs on her long black skirt.  She pats him on the head, "it is very blue, bluer than the lake we go to in July."  She smiles at him, grabs his hand and starts to pull him towards the car.  He is resistant, staring up at the blue sky above him and entranced by its hue.  "Sweetie we have to go," she yanks on his arm with a little more force, nothing painful but just enough to get him to move, but he stands firm as a rock anchored to the ground.  "Mommy, why does the sky change colors when it goes dark?"  She looked at her son, five years old and curious about everything, and smiles at him.  "Well, that's because when the sun goes to sleep, he takes all the colors with him one by one."  He looks up at her and crinkles his nose, "Mommy that's not true!"   Letting out a sigh with a laugh, she admits she was making it up.  "To be honest, I'm not really sure why the sky changes colors."  She tugs on his arm again to get him to budge towards the car, and this time he weakens his stance and moves just a little.  "But mommy, the sky is now pink!"  She looked up to a pink lining painted on the horizon, and smiled at her son, "Yes, it is very pink, but we have to go home and get to sleep."  "But mommy, why do we have to sleep?"  Smiling at her son once more, she responds, "because we all need to rest, or else we will have no energy for tomorrow!"  She feigns excitement to try to trick her own son into becoming enthralled at the prospect of sleeping, but her son is still staring at the sky.  The two stand there looking up at the sky becoming darker and darker and darker.  Finally she tries her luck once more and grabs her son's arm, who acquiesces to the pull.  The hop into the car and drive back home.  

The night continues slowly, as she continually tosses and turns throughout the night.  She awakens herself, looks at her son in the other room, and walks outside to sit on the porch.  Staring up at the sky she begins to tear up once more.  The sunrise hits her eyes with streaks of pinks and oranges like they were painted by an artist's brush.  She slouches back into her chair, and looks into the sky.  Grabbing a piece of paper and pen, she scribbles;

Today my son asked me why the sky changes color

And I could not give him an answer

Because I asked that question to my husband,

Who now has passed away,

And he said it was because mother nature was jealous 

of how beautiful I was that every night 

it tries to create something more beautiful than I am.

And I know it was corny, but every time I looked at the sunset

I always smiled.

She looked up at the sky once more, and began to cry.  With tears dripping down her cheek she finishes her writing,

And he told me that every sunrise

The colors would mesh into one

That he called Annabelle, 

Because it looks just like the color 

of my eyes.

Her son tugs on her arm, "Mommy, why are you crying?"  She stares at her son's eyes, and whispers, "Because I've never seen the sunrise."

Return

I decided that with the new blogger format which I never utilized before, maybe I should start blogging again. So, hopefully my new fonts and such excite you just as much as they excite me. Unfortunately, I have nothing particular to write right now, and in fact, I am quite distracted by Roland Garros, so until later!

Smile!