That's All That Should Matter

I feel a parasite gnawing at my beating organ. There are twinges of ache as it burrows and wiggles deeper. They all claim to know the emotion but I know they really can’t recall.

I deluded myself to believe that I can feel the agony of others I’ve hurt. So, tell me how you have or can feel the same? Did you ever feel the same when you kicked that dog or stomped on that ant? I’ve kicked so many beings while they were still writhing on the ground.

“You stole someone else’s—not just a someone but a friend’s husband,” my mother harshly chided, “while you still have a husband.”

Can you steal a being from another? In the general sense, yes, you could. Yet, that would be tiptoeing into a complete different matter. We are speaking of “stealing” in dissimilar terms. I believe what is logical. You cannot “steal” someone from another. You cannot “steal” the other’s emotions. Please, enlighten me how it’s possible to steal one’s emotions? And you certainly can’t change one’s thought. You may sway their thought this way and that but you don’t think for them. You just simply guide them to what you want them to think.

Parents are able to guide their offspring easiest when they’re young. The offspring believe that Mommy and Daddy know best. Every year the offspring grows and the parents find it more difficult to lead the offspring where they want. Now that I have functioning reproductive organs and a well-developed brain, I am able to step in my own direction instead of where I am wanted. Forgive me, for I have ripened at this time. Let me relish, for I know I will only rotten as I age more. As I age, every wrinkle that I form will be a visible regret.

“Why, John? Just tell me why!” She shrieked. Her cries had pounded against the walls of the hotel lobby.

Her trills leached through the doors as I trampled out into the humid night. I fiddled with my keys as I neared my vehicle. The glimpse of a small palm slapping on the window of the vehicle beside mine forced me to halt. I peered inside the other vehicle.

“Did you think what this could do to Lucy?” You ask as you scribble something on your clipboard.

My mind never crossed how my actions could affect my family until I seen that little palm pat the glass. You’d think I would have had rational thoughts about my selfish actions sooner. Lucy was sitting in her car seat, which I lent my friend since she offered to babysit while I went on a “date”. Lucy was sitting across from Benson, my friend’s son. He was only six months older than her.

The vehicle was unlocked. I pulled the door open and unbuckled the seat belt that held the car seat in place. I lifted the car seat, Lucy still strapped in. I shut the door, quickly opened my vehicle and buckled in the car seat. I slid in front of the steering wheel, backed out and sped off.

She doesn’t need to know my past. She doesn’t need to know that I made mistakes. All she needs to know is that she is momentously loved by me and her father, and that’s all that should matter.