Apology to My Sister

I called you.
A month ago
I left you a voicemail, cordial
with a tinge of plaintive.
Could you tell?
You were drifting on the Hudson,
teaching schoolchildren about tides
or sailing or algae.
Were you cold there, at night?
I think of you when I can’t sleep,
and want to apologize
for pointing that knife at you
when we were kids.
Being a kid
doesn’t excuse that.
I am also sorry
for using my hands and words on you,
or not using them at all.
My silence might have been
the most painful tool.
Tomorrow I fly away
to another home, missing you
by hours.
We’ll share the sky,
gazing at the same fleecy clouds
and patchwork fields,
absorbed in our own respective storylines.

Merry Whatever

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Today, I celebrated the birth of Christ.
Or wait, no I didn’t…

Today, I honored the spirit of consumerism and capitalism.
Er, that’s not quite it.

Today, I paid tribute to sugar, butter, and overeating in the name of the holidays.
Perhaps something a bit different…

Today, I spent time with people I love and tried to show them how much they mean to me and how much I appreciate them. Yes, that sounds about right.

Sometimes it just takes me a while to remember.