I remember times I promised to be somewhere at a certain time or do a certain thing or call someone on a certain day. And I didn’t. There remain broken promises that touch a chord of sadness.
These are not the ones that others made, but that I made myself. Mostly unspoken, nevertheless — to my parents, lover, friends, co-workers, and — me. Small promises, for the most part. Like the thank-you notes I intended to write, the gifts I meant to give, the love I intended to show, the words I meant to say.