I have survived the -23 degree assault on the few uncovered parts of my face as we trudged only a few blocks to school (parking a few blocks away and walking, cold-induced tears streaming down and freezing mid-way down our cheeks, as opposed to driving the entire way to school has to be worth something?), marched with a friend for an hour around the arena's indoor walking track, visited the police station to be told once again that my record check still wasn't complete (despite being started last August), mopped up the sugar-less coffee that I inadvertently poured all over our keyboard, desktop, and files, and JUST had a vivid realization that I am a terrible, terrible sister.
It's one thing to forget to pack a second pair of gloves into your child's backpack, or to fail to recall a library book's due date (or even where in your home that library book may be currently situated), or even, as frustrating as it is to other parties involved, to draw a blank about an appointment of some sort.
But to forget to arrange your schedule to be able to attend your sister's final wedding dress fitting...Yikes.
Sorry, Treva.
Writing bravely means to me writing the truth. Even when it is a horribly inconsiderate truth you wish you didn't have to share.
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