Apology

I said something thoughtless and hurtful to my Auntie Ginny tonight, and even though I apologized, and she forgave me and we cried and she told me to forget about it and then we talked and laughed -- even after all of that -- I feel it's not enough. I wish I could take it back, swallow the words whole and erase the moment so she wouldn't know I'd even been thinking it.

That's why I apologize so much. I want to go back and erase the moment.

"That was a really rude thing you said," she told me. "And you know I would do anything for you and any time you need to talk you know I'm always there for you. You know you can tell me anything."

Which is true.

My Auntie Ginny was my mother before she had a daughter of her own. She'd always pick me up, take me to the Fun Factory, take me to the park, take me to hang out at Grandma's house. She was always laughing and cheerful.

She isn't that way so much anymore. The years have changed her I guess, like they change everything.

But I still go to her before I go to my parents. I still confide in her and trust her before I do almost anyone else.

So when I said what I said tonight, I really did feel as though I'd stabbed her in the back.

And I'm sorry for it, even though I say it too much, I don't say it enough.