The Miner There is a woman who will never read this. She will never know I found her letter from so many years ago; she will never know that I reread all her apologies and realized I was the one who should have written them. This woman will go the rest of her life never knowing that I now understand I'm the one who is sorry, that I pushed us apart. With every bit of sincerity I have, I wish she could hear me now.

Even though I finally understand, we still couldn't be together now. I am no longer as infallible as I was back then, and I know this now for certain, even more certain of my current imperfection than my past perfection. Between the man I was then and the man I am now was a mountain that took me six years to tunnel through. And now when I look back through that tunnel, even despite its winding, forked passages, I can see myself getting ready to dig. Try as I might, I can only look through the tunnel; I yell until I'm blue in the face and still can't hear my warning.  ¶ 8:02 PM