No Regrets

Saturday morning. Writing another postcard. She looks out the window. Oh. Geez. Not again. “Dear Elaine,” she writes. “There’s a tree. Next to the driveway. Bushy. This tree. With a million leaves. At least. Maybe more. Probably. More. In the spring it coats my car with pollen. Greasy. Nasty stuff. In the summer it pelts my car with berries. Red. Juicy. Staining. And now, and now. In the fall. Those leaves. Zillions of them. Yes. There are. Falling on my car. Covering it. Glued to it. Every morning. Geez. What a mess. Okay. Moving on. To other news. There was a special program. On Netflix. Last night. This guru. Or something. I don’t know. He said life is just a series of experiences. Nothing more. That’s why we’re here. On earth. To have experiences. As many as we need. One after another. No judgement. No regrets. Just experiences. Weird theory. I know. But on the plus side. Think about it. All the things I regret. You know. My stupid decisions. Wrong turns. Failed love relationships. All that stuff. Gone. Because, because. They’d just be experiences. Nothing more. No judgement. No regrets. Hey. Works for me. Totally. But still. There’s this tree. Just another bad experience. For me. This tree. I don’t need it. And those leaves. Zillions of them. Falling, falling. I wish my landlord would cut it down. Goodbye tree. Yeah. I could get into that. How nice. So nice. That would be.”


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