It has been forty-three years. Yet, it seems like yesterday when an old lady taught me a lesson in forgiveness I __63__ to pass on to someone else someday. On a mindless Saturday afternoon, a friend and I were bored to death. __64__, we picked the old lady’s house as our playground. The goal of our play was to observe __65__ into missiles as they rolled to the roof’s edge and shot out into the yard like comets __66__ from the sky. I found myself a perfectly smooth rock and sent it for a ride. __67__, the stone was too smooth to grasp. It slipped off my hand as I threw it straight at a small window on the old lady’s back porch. __68__ we heard the sound of fractured glass, we escaped from the house faster than any of our missiles flew off her roof. For the next few days, I was __69__ scared __69__ I couldn’t look her straight in the eye as delivering the newspaper to her. She still greeted me with a smile, but I was not comfortable in her presence __70__. As a result, I decided to save the paper delivery money which could cover the cost of her broken window. I put the money in an envelope with a note __71__, “I am sorry for breaking your window.” I felt __72__ after I put the envelope through the letter slot in her door. The following day, as I handed the newspaper to her, she gave me a bag of bookies in which there was a note that said, “I was proud of what you had done.”

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