I sometimes behave as if I haven’t forgiven, and I certainly haven’t forgotten. Besides, if there remains even a kernel of remembrance, is forgiveness a thing that can be separated out, or truly embraced? How does forgiveness happen when you haven’t forgotten? Sometimes it seems like forgetting is the thing, and forgiveness is a welcome byproduct.
I guess I’ve come close on occasion, but it’s never been buried. I move through the days with a permanent limp and lingering insecurities. I dream of things being different, healed, and I do revel in the occasional sunny day– though you’re likely not to know it from looking at me.
