It was an old friend’s saint’s day a week ago. It just so happened, oddly enough, to be the birthday of a few people I knew. It was one of the first times in a long while I took a birthday other than my own or that of a family member very seriously.
Honestly while I felt good about doing what I did, I just couldn’t look at the other person the same way anymore. Wonder if it was worth it. Or if it was, as an old friend used to call it, a moment worthy of a vodka shot.
I haven’t been posting at all this year so far, and it seems sad to begin on a note of regret. But I’m learning. Perhaps I may be wrong about regrets, or right. Or I just wouldn’t want to know. That’s the point of being surprised, even by myself.