The letter for today is: A,
where I feature aggravation and apple.
At a young age, eating an apple provided the best of experiences. But I became agitated when I couldn't eat every last bit, consoling myself with nibbling around the seeds and stalk. Agitation plagued me each time I tried to achieve perfection, like remembering a poem to entertain my sisters. At the age of ten, I didn't realize memory wasn't an attribute I'd assimilate.
In my thirties, my children's shortcomings agitated me. How could they forget what I'd taught them? I spent every spare moment setting a good example and they didn't follow in my footsteps. I never gave up hope, although I finally stepped back when they left home.
Of course, maturity brings understanding. It's not so easy to eat an apple any more with my crooked teeth. And as far as influencing anyone else, I might as well forget it.
Each person makes their own choice and must operate within their own parameters. The only person who rouses my aggravation now—is myself.