“Men don’t”, echoed in my head for almost half of the day, not just as a certainty, but like a stone skipping across the murky waters of my mind. It is one harsh truth if you ask me. It’s like someone took Merry’s little lamb, burned out all the tenderness, and left only bone.
God, that pale omniscient eye in the ceiling, got all the time in the world. He forgives like the tide swallows footprints, handing out forgiveness like it’s candy at a parade. You do wrong stuff left and right, and He might still pat you on the head if you cry hard enough. He basically swallows sins like stars, distant and cold. I like to think this way.
But people are time-bound creatures. They keep score. They remember what you did or didn’t do in middle school and what you didn’t or did say last Tuesday. They scribble down wrongs in ink, in memory, in glances.
God forgives whenever he pleases, but down here, forgiveness costs something. What, I don’t know, but it does. It’s definitely hard, and half the time, you forgive someone and they kick you in the nose again. Your forgiveness is fragile like a moth’s wing, and if one pleases, it automatically becomes that watermelon under a hydraulic press.
Still, now and then, somewhere out there, someone does forgive, maybe not like God, but c’mon, who’s sitting in here all day to weigh it up? Not me, I’m just looking forward to my share of forgiveness to receive.
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