January 19, 2021

dear friend,

This morning, the sky looked unafraid to be itself. The coffee had that perfect ratio
of sugar and cream. I hadn’t slept well, woke from a dream in which I’d failed to buy
a Christmas present for someone I should have. I was working so hard to cover my tracks,
kept leaving the party to look for a stand-in, something I could wrap and give away 
so I could feel better about my neglect. But none of the objects made sense, or conveyed 
the sentiment of how thoughtful I really was, how good of a friend, how creative a gift-
giver. It turns out I’d bombed the test, and as the dream was ending,
I stood in a room with empty hands, strangely relieved to discover that,
in the final reckoning, I would only
tell the truth.

(artwork by Amy Tingle)