Oblivion

We remember little things as if they are the only drops that fall into our basin. The mean words and the angry looks, the emotional swipes we've taken at one another. We subsist of these dirty waters, drinking in the germs, replacing our blood with their venomous transparency.

I used to sit each night, eyes closed, hands palm-up on my knees, visualizing all the days wrongdoings, forming them into an ugly black ball in front of me, and finally, when it was all out of me, when I had been purged, I would clap my hands into that ball and send it crashing into oblivion. I have rarely felt as calm, as clean.

That's how forgiveness tastes.