I’m letting go of my pursuit of justice so I can go on. Letting go means giving up a part of yourself. Not easy if you believe you are right. The morning before court we parked by the cemetery and because we had time to kill, we walked through the yard pointing out the stones with the oldest dates. Some of the markers had fallen over and been burnished into the ground, others bore the names of soldiers, husbands and wives, fathers and mothers. We sipped our coffees in the shade where the smallest stones poked like milk teeth out of the earth. These were the graves of infants. Cemeteries are quiet places even though life goes on just outside the gates, How was it that each of these souls had felt themselves to be as real as I? With that thought I was released, and found my decision easy.