A Sort of Homecoming

I work in my office alone a lot. For some, a dream, for others a nightmare. For me, a little of both. Fortunately, my friends at Pandora help me pass the time with wonderful music that is tailored to my moods, tastes, and every so often a surprise. Like this morning, when a song from my youth came on and I was thrust back for a moment to a very heady, emotional time and found my self standing face to face with the ghosts of yesteryear, and the ghost of who I used to be as well. The interesting thing is, this is the second time in less than a week that I've been thrust back to the same time period.

Earlier in the week, my husband and I drove my daughter and a friend down to the Philadelphia area, and the closer I got to Philly, the more pensive and dare I say, melancholy, I became. As I've said before, my current life goal is to live creating no further regrets. Obviously I have other goals as well, but this is a big one. As I've also said before, I've created plenty of regrets when I was younger, so many, that it almost necessitates my goal of not creating anymore. I would be racked with guilt and regret and unable to function. Needless to say, Philadelphia reminds me of a regret I have. And it's the worst kind. The kind where if I had just been willing to meet the situation where it was, to accept it as it were, there wouldn't have been that sad, melancholy washing over me as the miles of the New Jersey Turnpike ticked by going southward. Oh yes, we live and learn, and I truly believe that there are no coincidences in life, but it makes me sad to know that I threw away a pure and simple and honest love, because it wasn't exactly the kind I wanted. I know I was wrong. I know I did harm. I know I remain, to my knowledge, unforgiven.

Maybe it is selfish to want to be forgiven, or at least have my apology heard. Maybe I am reaping what I sowed. Maybe it is not my malfunction, but that of the other party that a mistake, albeit a doozie, of 20 years ago cannot be forgiven. I think it's the not knowing that's the worst. I'm putting it into the universe that I'd like the opportunity to apologize. If it's meant to happen, it will. But it's the not knowing that's the worst.

Does this person not care ? Or are they still so angry and hurt after 20 years that they can't possibly entertain forgiving. Do they judge me on who I was then? Keep me in a box where I'm not allowed to change? Or worst of all, not even consider me, as if I never existed, so inconsequential that I'm not even worth a thought. That would be the worst of all not because my ego would suffer, but because that relationship was one of the few at that point in my life that felt real to me. It taught me so much about love. It paved the way for me to shape the ideals that led me to make the choices that led me to where I am now. And so I am grateful for it, regardless of how it turned out.

Looking at it now, in the half light and shadow of distant memory, it is bittersweet, like finding out the tree at your old house wasn't quite as tall as you thought it was when you climbed it as a child. A sort of homecoming.