On June 14, 2004, I made a silly, little mistake.
Today — almost two years later — that silly, little mistake rose up from old, archived e-mails and sauntered out of dusty cardboard boxes, and made itself known to everyone from Tuscaloosa, Alabama, to New Richmond, Wisconsin, to New York City. That silly, little mistake had me coughing and wheezing and apologizing for hours.
It's not a big deal, really. Everything will be fine. Not too much time has been lost, not too much money has been spent. Looked at in a certain way, this mistake can even be considered a problem solver. Of sorts.
But:
It kinda scares me.
It scares me to think that a little mistake made two years ago can suddenly make itself known and influence current circumstances.
"There's a lesson in there," Elizabeth tells me.
"What is it?"
"I don't know."
"Maybe we'll find out two years from now," I say.
