I’m writing to issue an overdue apology. As you are aware, I don’t express flowery sentiment for the benefit of lip service or under the pretense of earning a loftier position in your twisted inheritance pyramid scheme. The battery operated card shuffler you promised me after your passing will be a sufficient token.

Before you become over-excited by my humble declaration of improper behavior, I should clarify, that I am not apologizing for the time I laughed when my cousin-partner-in-crime called you a pretentious old fart to your face. He was correct, although it was a rebellious prepubescent flash in the pan observation. I am also not sorry I discontinued attending church services, failed to meet a man in church, or failed to marry in a church. If god exists and is omnipotent, he understands and doesn’t see the necessity in my clearing things with you.

As I was saying in paragraph one, the apology.

It would seem I committed an inexcusable breach of etiquette between the ages of three and four. You know the incident I am referring to; you’ve reminded me of it yearly since I was sixteen. Yes, that’s the one. That time I discovered the bottle of Oil of Olay on your make-up tray and asked if it was yours. After you acknowledged it, I asked if that was the cream designed to make you look younger, and you said it was. Then I told you not to waste any more money, it wasn’t working.

What can I say? I am the youngest of three, an unfortunate product of television as babysitter, pop-culture and insecurity based mass marketing. If society’s influence over impressionable children disturbs you, you know, write a letter to someone, or something.

I guess you’re probably wondering, why the sudden pang of guilt on my part? Well, I’m not dying , if that’s what you are thinking, well at least no faster than I should be… The thing is, since we moved to an area with lower humidity, for the first time in my life, I am suffering from dry skin. I mean, really WTF? So for the first time in my entire life, I am shopping for a fucking moisturizer. Do you know what the bottle says? Age defying. Age defying, my ass. I don’t look younger, I look like target with vanity issues and disposable income. Maybe, I do have some of your genes….

With love and christian kindness,

jaded