Mea Culpa

I can feel it, somewhere in my chest...I think it might be climbing into my throat. Little claws hook into the tender, delicate skin deep that lines my trachea; the pain is at first subtle and complex, then it blossoms and descends through layers of muscle and sinew, undulating and shifting. 1

I hold my breath for a moment, hoping to shake off this burden, hoping that it'll fall out on its own, unable to survive in the stifling vacuum I've created. 2

But it doesn't. It's here to stay. A vacuum isn't the only thing I've created today. I've given birth to this new monster that's currently holed up above my lungs: guilt.3

If I could pull it out and stuff it into a handbag I would. It'd be a little less unwieldy and a bit easier to misplace. But the more I think about it, the more I wonder: if this remorse was born today, it is but a sapling, a seed. It's a monster now but what might it grow into? Acceptance? Forgiveness? Bitterness? Hatred? Maybe it's not worth removing after all. Maybe the roots of the guilt-sapling can build a foundation for something more promising....and less painful.4

So I made a mistake this morning. It's my fault. I'm loathe to admit it, but here I kneel by the side of of someone I barely knew; someone who a few hours ago was as anonymous as point of light in the night sky. He saved my life, I guess you could say. And what do I have to show for it? Two things: my very existence and this baby-guilt-monster, burrowing its own little cavity an inch to the right of my heart.5