Tuesday, February 17, 2004

In One Ear

There's a bench. It's sort of out of the way, and yet in the middle of everything. It's stone. It's been engraved. Well, not the bench, the stone wall behind it, commemorating the bench. I've spent hours at that bench. I couldn't tell you what the engraving says. Might be a famous quote. Yeah, I think that's it. Probably a quote about education or love or life lessons in general. I suppose I didn't pay enough attention because I didn't care what the bench meant to other people, just what it meant to me and what I always hoped it would be.

There's a tree. In the early spring it flowers so beautifully. There's a marker next to the tree. Marble or stone, engraved in remembrance of a life lost to a drunk driving collision on that spot. I don't remember the name, I just remember that it's a few blocks short of a quarter into my run and I'm almost done when I pass it on the way back. Well, I revere it more than that, but sometimes I just forget.

Yeah, that's it. Sometimes I just forget. It's not that I'm insensitive, selfish and vain-- that I'm so wrapped up in marveling at my own majesty in my own little universe, I just happen to forget to pay attention to other people; forget other people exist. Forget other people wake up and fall asleep. Forget other people do things differently than I do. Forget that my way may not always be the correct way. Forget other people are suffered to inhale the toxic exhaust that is my aura. Forget that I'm not running this universe.

The worst, though, the worst is that I forget I can change. I forget that I can be forgiven for being such an ass.