Etchings in the Sand…

Thoughts and Photos from the Desert…

Birthday Questions…

I’ve wondered if it’s just me or if others suffer occasional vivid memories of things done and/or said way back in the past that should have been long forgotten. I hate that. Maybe it’s lifes way of saying “You thought you got away with that, didn’t you? Well, you didn’t!”

Here’s a poem, shared by Garrison Keillor this morning, to let us sinners know we’re not alone. Appropriate on one’s 82nd birthday – right?

Regret

by Lawrence Raab

Every day there’s something old
to feel sorry about—
what I should have done and didn’t,
or what I did, and kept on doing.

I want to believe
everyone’s forgotten by now.
Then I picture them thinking back.

And those who’ve died
and earned the wisdom death allows
just shake their heads and sigh.
“Very funny,” my father would say

after my sister and I played
some cruel little joke on him.
“Ha, ha,” he’d add,
to let us know he got the point.

We want to forget
until we start to forget.
We want the past to change,
and we want it back.

“Enough is enough,”
my father used to say
to tell us it was over.

“Regret” by Lawrence Raab, from The History of Forgetting. © Penguin Poets, 2009. Reprinted with permission.

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2 responses to “Birthday Questions…

  1. Janet Hudgins November 29, 2010 at 10:48 am

    Happy Birthday Roger!

    I too remember those mistakes from the distant past. Usually in the wee small hours of the morning when I should be sleeping.

    Cheers.

    • citrus November 29, 2010 at 11:01 am

      Janet…

      You are such a sweet friend. Thank you all way around.

      I proudly cooked the 6 lb roasting hen and royally screwed up the whole thing. Undercooked, full of bloody yuck and didn’t really discover until I had sliced enough of it to eliminate putting it back in the oven. Microwave! Not the same.

      I love to cook, but seldom mess up like this. Had to tell someone! Jo Ann was supportive as always. Secretly suspect she giggled a little!!!

      Women!

      Love to you and yours.

      Roger

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