The Line

The thought of my great-aunt stirred up a whole brew of conflicting emotions, most of them bad. Anger, a desire for revenge. I did not deny that the feelings were there; I acknowledged their presence, but I would not give in to them. Yes, I had been wronged, but I was never going to find happiness for my family or myself if I focused my energies on that. I knew what that meant, even if I didn’t like it.

“I’m going to forgive Ginny too,” I said. I knew from what had happened with Maisie that forgiveness was not a one-time act. It was a decision to move on and focus on a person’s good features each time the hurt over what they’ve done crept back up on you. Ginny hadn’t left me much to work with. “It’s going to take me a while, but I will not let her poison live on in me,” I assured my mama. “Somehow, I will move past what she did to me, what she did to us,” I said and then realized out loud, “and I guess today is as good of a day to start as any.”

I stood and brushed the earth from my skirt. “I’m going to say good-bye for now, Mama, but I’ll be back real soon,” I said. I reached down and removed a single rose from the flowers I had put on my mother’s grave. “I’m gonna go and spend a little time with Ginny now. She always did love roses.” Flower in hand, I hopped back on my bike. I pedaled farther down toward the river, where I turned left and headed up to Greenwich Cemetery.