A few years ago I offended her. When I realized it I wrote her an apology and expected life to go on as before. But it didn't. She was angry and stayed angry. I got miffed as a defense. After all I had done the noble gesture of penitence. I had paid my dues. But no matter. The friendship was decidedly over. When I saw her my thoughts built up my argument of how I was wrongfully blamed. How she was unyielding and cold. Though we never spoke out loud the monologue in my head was unrelenting. My comeback was well rehearsed. 

It was exhausting. 

Gradually I climbed down from my stance of self vindication, and thought about what it felt like to be her. I let go of being me and wondered if my apology had been more about getting out of trouble than actually understanding how she felt. While I had let go of ever rekindling our relationship I began to wish her well. 

Then one day after church we happened to be standing side by side. I spoke to her. Not a profound message of reconnection, but a cordial remark. Over the next few months it became less awkward to make eye contact. To smile. 

Then last week she called me. She had heard about a project I was working on and wondered if she could be involved. 

"Why, yes!" I said as easy as pie. 

She came over and we visited for most of an hour. It was comfortable to talk about fabric and children. I listened. In the absence of protecting myself I could be present with her. It felt simple. When she left I had that tranquil feeling that comes after a prolonged hike, one where I had been dragged along rather than gone eagerly. 

I realized how much effort it had taken to sustain the vexation. Letting it go was a wonderful release.