This is the skein of thoughts that ran through my mind as I walked yesterday...
Now that I'm a mother of grown sons, I'd like to apologize to my mother for not calling every Sunday.
Now that I love cliches, I'd like to apologize to my father for thinking the clips he sends me are insufferably cornball.
Now that I go out wearing whatever I want, I'd like to apologize to my niece for asking her if she was going out in that?
Now that I'm aging, I'd like to apologize to everyone I ever snapped at for moving too slowly.
Now that my ears are ringing, I'd like to apologize for exasperation at having to repeat myself, louder.
Now that I've passed my prime earning years, I'd like to apologize to my bank account for all the unnecessary stuff I thought I needed.
Now that I know where all our trash ends up, I'd like to apologize to the planet for all the unnecessary stuff I didn't need--and tossed.
Now that I'm a writer, I'd like to apologize to every writer I ever kept waiting for a response to a manuscript.
Now that I'm working for myself, I'd like to apologize for every bill I paid too late.
Now that I understand how little time we have in this world, I'd like to apologize for every moment of impatience at how much time things--and people--seemed to need.
But apologies aside? No matter how old you are, it's worth sitting on the other side of the desk, for at least five minutes five minutes a day.
Add your own "Now that I'm...."
(Photograph is a detail of ceramic art by Sergei Isupov from the Ferrin Gallery.)