If you'd let me, I'd like to apologize for the 3:00 am coffee; for leaving the grinds in the filter. I'm sorry for the late nights. I'm sorry for the cheap dates. I'm sorry that the Kyoto Protocol failed and that Joan Rivers is still on television. I'm sorry you think my car is just a big purse. I apologize for the four hour and twenty-three minute trip to Kentucky. I apologize for the trip taking twenty-three minutes longer than you thought it would; it shouldn't have been that way. I'm sorry that the map wasn't to scale, that it said we were less than half way when we hit the two hour mark. I'm sorry that we had to stop twice for bathroom breaks—that not everyone in the car peed before they left home. I'm sorry that my car burns gas and therefore needs to be refueled. I'm sorry that I'm cold when you want to roll down the window. I'm sorry that the speed limit and the cop riding my ass for the past ten miles do not let me make better time. Most of all I'm sorry you didn't drive down in your own god damn car. I'm sorry your father is only interested in cows. Day in and day out for the past forty-two years. I'm sorry that he accepted that position on the state panel about cows. I'm sorry I've heard him talk of nothing else ever since. I'm sorry for telling you I hated Dostoyevsky, although I will never apologize for hating him. I'm sorry I left crumbs in the peanut butter jar. I know that upsets you. I'm sorry that the boy scouts ruined your life. It's not that hard to make a fire. I could teach you. I'm sorry that I'm not cutesy, and girly, and corny about things like birthday cards. I'm sorry that I can't bring myself to buy a card that employs puns, sappy sentiments, religious sentiments, sappy religious sentiments, or professes more emotion than I actually feel. I'm sorry I threw out the food you left unwrapped in my fridge. I still say it was mold and that powdered sugar never comes in green. I'm sorry that I cringe, noticeably, every time you ask to borrow my car. I'm sorry that you take it as an insult—a personal insult—when other drivers pass you on the right because you refuse to get over. I'm sorry no one ever taught you how to drive well. I'm sorry that bananas smell bad when you eat them, and worse when other people eat them. I'm sorry for noisy children in restaurants. Yes, I, too, think the parents should be horse whipped until they can make the children behave properly when taken out in public. I'm sorry no one ever thought to do the same to your parents. I'm incredibly, exceedingly, terribly sorry that you think you look cool when you smoke. I know people who look cool when they smoke. You are not one of them.
I'm sorry that I love thunder storms and sitting alone on balconies during them. I love sitting on balconies with company on clear nights as well. Just not in your company. I apologize for lying to you about that. I apologize for telling you the truth just now; I'm sorry I didn't say it sooner.
Eileen is currently finishing an MFA at Western Michigan University where she also teaches composition. She blogs and writes at eileenwiedbrauk.com.