I am not Catholic. My best friend in eighth grade was, and I absorbed a fourteen year old's version of the dos and don'ts. 

 

Lent has begun for those who observe it, and the notion occurs to me that I would like to join them. I missed the chance to get ashes on my forehead, but perhaps I could filch some from my own fireplace.

 

There are an assortment of options for what to give up, and each one holds its own appeal. One friend is gathering forty surplus items from her home and donating them. I could do that. There are personal flaws like lying, and complaining that are expendable. Maybe I could release worry, though as a mother of nine that is a big ask. 

 

Then an idea came to me. Mental screen shots. The impetus was a brief conversation last weekend, in which a friend let loose with a few derogatory remarks about someone I love which I have clung to like a soggy life jacket on a sinking raft. Except that instead of keeping me afloat, his words drag me into the murky waters of resentment. 

 

My intention this month, which begins somewhat tardily today, is to delete such images. Go elsewhere in my mind. Stop allowing that interaction be the first one that appears when I am minding my own business. 

 

I say with a mixture of pessimism and optimism that I expect there will be other moments showing up with regularity that I need to loosen my grip on. When someone dismisses my idea, or speaks ill of a friend, I can step over it. Neither memorize it, nor revisit it like a gravestone. 

 

After forty days of such emotional purging, beautiful things may emerge.