I BLAME MYSELF

If your mother had a scar on her nose, what child wouldn’t think that one day he would make that scar vanish? I blame myself that my mom’s scar didn’t vanish.
Don’t blame yourself.
I blame myself that I couldn’t make her hair blonder.
Don’t blame yourself.
That I couldn’t make her happier.
You loved your mother.
I blame myself that they don’t call kids children any more.
What could you have done?
I blame myself for not feeling compassion for ticks and fleas.
Good for you.
That I have spent my life demanding that people blame themselves for their misfortunes.
You’ve made exceptions.
Very few.
Include yourself among the few. And you belong included, believe you me.
I blame myself for finally doing it. Every penny.
It’s not over yet.
I blame myself that great loves are like empires. When the idea they are based on crumbles they too fade away.
You’re so right.
I blame myself for not going whaling more often.
You can’t do everything. Don’t blame yourself.
I blame myself for not being opaque more often.
That is not true.
I blame myself for every leaky faucet, every rigged election, every shanked two- iron.
Don’t do this to yourself. It’s not too late.
I blame myself for not having all the money in the world.
Where did you make your countless millions, dear?
Do you think future generations will.. . . ?
Of course they will. Every one of them.
I don’t know. I don’t know. I just don’t know. You know what I mean?
Of course I do, dear.