I’m letting my parents off the hook. I’m thinking about pants, curled up on the floor. I’ve forgiven everyone and everything. I forgive you, alarm clock. And you, night light, flickering in the corner. I forgive the machine that imitates crickets so I can sleep. I’m floating on forgiveness. This morning, my pants seem more important to me, like dark tunnels my feet must travel. I forgive you, tunnels, darkness. Feet, if you get lost along the way and I never see you again, I’ll remember your wiggling toes. I’ll still look down and feel like I’m standing. Today, I’m going to be ecstatic. I’m going to run out of my house and yell, Love me! and, There’s God! He’s been here all along! I will believe this is true. I will believe in Buddha and Mohammed and Satan. I will believe in pants. I will wear them like wings for my legs. I will believe in the flame; who cares if I burn? I’m willing to be smoke, rising and twirling, nothing but a scent you sometimes catch and say, Ah, Halloween; when I was a child, I wore a mask.