Cranky Complaints-Lady Buys BOOKS! (or tries to)

letter to the guy who hit me with his car door

It's Elul, [i know it's not YET; i wrote this in my head last night
as i was trying to fall asleep - and i plan to send it to him when i
have all the bills together so i can stick them in the same envelope]
Rosh hashanah is coming, and you owe me an apology.
You owe me an apology for two months of pain, hobbling, two casts,
crutches and a cane; summer plans ruined or seriously curtailed.
You owe my kids an apology for slowing them down, cancelling our
Wonderland trip, skipping out on ball games to which I'd bought
tickets months ago, giving them a mother who could no longer take the
subway or come to soccer practice.
You owe my friends an apology for the weeks of meals they cooked for
us – while you sent nothing; not even a call to see how I was doing.
You owe my mother an apology for her time taking me to the hospital
for a cast, while you went out for lunch, and then again when she took
me to another hospital to have the cast taken off... while you thought
nothing, or less than nothing, about what happened. Bet you thought
it was over weeks ago.
You don't owe my blog readers and extended family an apology; they've
seen what I've been through this summer and already (anonymously)
think you're a jerk.
You don't owe me an apology for telling the police you didn't hit me
with your car door. That's between you and Hashem.
But there's this little thing called bein adam l'chaveiro, and while I
may never call you chaveir, this may well be what He had in mind.
I'm angry and can't forgive you unless you ask.