I dreamed an apology, one I gave to an old love
for treating him as an interesting pastime
rather than a human being.
He was the school boy again, not the heavyset father of three.
I was me today, wishing he would accept my words,
knowing he had no plan to care. I dreamed he would not speak,
but held my gaze from a frozen place.
His twin brother and I danced apart
in lieu of conversation, each movement a simple message.
Faintly brother smiled. A small path had been made,
until I woke to the crunch of a backhoe gutting our street.
To sleep soundly enough for such a meditation, this is the blessing.
Day 11