Grudge

On Sunday mornings we walk downtown to a coffee shop, where we order breakfast (plain bagel, toasted, with butter) and coffee (Chiapas, large), read the newspaper, and chat. This coffee shop has cool art that hangs on the wall, and a big bulletin board with flyers for concerts by Freak Mother, yoga retreats, lost dogs, etc. One of the flyers that I noticed today -- because I make it a regular practice to stand and read the flyers on the board -- was for a writer's group in town. They meet on Wednesday nights, they read and respond to each other's writing, and it all sounded great. I was memorizing the email address when I realized that the last name on the email sounded suspiciously like the last name of the female half of the couple who shafted us out of our dream house several years ago.

It was then that I realized I've been harboring this grudge for much too long. I mean, I get emails from her occasionally, through the faculty/staff listserv, and I regularly delete them without reading them. I've seen her on campus a couple of times and have given her a hard stare and then refused to acknowledge her (I don't think this means much, as I doubt she remembers me the way I remember her!).

But when I consider NOT joining a writing group because the last name of the contact person sounds a bit like her last name -- but clearly isn't -- this is a sign that I need to just get over it. Or perhaps write about it. Either way, now it begins to injure me, and that must stop.