I’m not sure I like the phrase
forgive me.
It sound like groveling,
knees on the ground
arms up,
begging.
It sounds theatrical and dramatic,
two things I am not.
Yom Kippur is the Day of Atonement
a time for reflecting
on how I may have wronged others
and seeking forgiveness
from God,
or from those I have wronged.
It’s a difficult thing,
to go back over the past twelve months
and try to remember
mistakes I made
insults I said
things I did that might have hurt someone.
Twelve months is a long time.
Especially this time around.
This time last year I was living in Colorado,
paradise.
My work life was getting stressful
and I was getting itchy feet.
I was in limbo,
working my ass off
while wondering if the interview I had just done
would turn out to be anything.
And, if it did,
would I have the guts to go.
So reflecting on wrongs I inflicted on others
is not exactly the highlight of
the past year.
And I will not apologize to anyone for
putting myself first
and doing what I needed to do.
