I’m still here, for at least one more night. I still have the cold.
It’s a weird guilt I’m trying to sort out. I’m feeling sorry, because it’s been hard for Mom, with her husband and her youngest son both stricken with cancer. And I have no justification to make matters worse. But then I can’t help wondering —maybe being away from home is the best thing while I have this cold. What good could I do at home? This isn’t feeling sorry for myself. I’m being logical. And I want to feel sorry for what I’ve done, but I want to keep coming to this logic, as if I’ve inadvertently done the right thing and just can’t deny it.
Oh, I’m still ashamed. I called Mom every name in the book, I coughed in her face, I raised a fist —and I walked away with the lousy rationale that I had been provoked. And I’m still feeling like leaning on that rationale, even though I know I shouldn’t.
Tomorrow will be a hard day. On top of everything, I’m not sure my cold will be gone. Maybe I’ll call first, apologize and offer to stay away until the cold disappears. That sounds phony, I know, but I should propose that sincerely. God stay with me tomorrow, as ever. I need you.
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