Yesterday, in the wee hours of the morning, I couldn’t sleep. This is when I noticed a longtime friend responded to my post about Joe Biden.
As I stated before, I rarely discuss politics but I think after enduring four years of this presidency when people of color, African-Americans, women, journalists, the poor, the chronically ill and immigrants have been ruthlessly attacked and demeaned many times by our commander-in-chief, I was disappointed by Biden’s comment. I felt like my choices in this upcoming election would be based on the lesser of two evils rather than picking a clear good candidate.
Anyway, we had a lengthy exchange in the comments and at after 3 a.m. I was mentally and physically exhausted so I made a comment that was terse and appeared as if was ending a friendship over a disagreement over politics. This is something I wouldn’t do. I attempted to explain and apologize when I woke up from a nap but I heard nothing in response. So, I was feeling a little down when I opened my door and saw a package that wasn’t addressed to me.
I don’t even know this person, I thought. It’s a terrible day out. Too bad but I don’t feel like dealing with other people today.
I sat the box on my table as I listened to the rain beating on my window outside. I don’t know what is about the rain but it hurts my joints and makes me think.
What would a good neighbor do? I wondered.
I have to do the right thing and try to track this person down, I thought.
After I googled and found my neighbor’s correct address, I grabbed my umbrella and went to neighbor’s house. I rang the bell. I called and nothing.
I went back home feeling defeated.
Today isn’t my day. Sometimes, even when you do your best you can’t make up for things that were done or said even by mistake, I thought.
This morning, I was proven wrong, at least in one of these cases. My neighbor left a note on my door with his phone number. I called and I was able to get him his package.
I learned you have to try to make amends no matter what the outcome.
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