53. tell me about freedom, uncle
there's something i'm afraid to say i value. take a wild guess, nephew. that's right. it most certainly is freedom. i love my freedom.
i once felt ashamed to feel free. i'd feel ashamed to value freedom. i guess i thought i was becoming an arrogant, unapologetic, self-righteous american bald eagle in bright stripes and bright stars.
there's still a part of me that feels this way. but now it's less shame and more guilt. at least, i'm realizing it's guilt. guilt, when i leave the water running in the shower to steam when i suddenly decide to take a dump. guilt, when the lady lays the sirloin onto the charcoal grill in front of us, trays of meat delivered to our table. guilt, when i read about another bomb dropped or visa revoked on the news app on my phone before i leave the house to walk down our house on a hill.
guilt is ugly creature who lurks in the crevices and caves and caverns of my chest. so it's hidden. well, if something must be seen for it to be beautiful, it must also be seen for it to be ugly. when we see, we must see all: the ugly and the beautiful.
freedom is also ugly and beautiful.