Such an ugly robe. Such a dreary color. The color of death and the stench of past mistakes. It attaches to the skin, heavy and hard to take off. But. But I was given a new robe. A perfect gift. Once of brilliance and overwhelming newness. This one attaches permanently but with lightness instead. The beauty of it makes me want to sing and dance. Why, oh why, do I keep the old one in my closet? Every so often taking it down and putting it on over my newness. Do I think the Giver of my perfect gift will somehow be pleased with my bent shoulders of remembrance? Somehow a penance of shame bringing him a perverse pleasure? Such thinking! Take that old robe to the fire and let it go up in smoke. It’s not fit for me to wear over such a beautiful gift. I want to sing and dance again in my robe of beauty and laughter and joy and lightness!