I'm sorry I missed your art show opening, and I'm sorrier that I didn't call to tell you I wasn't coming. You were left looking at the door, wondering about an empty spot where I should have been, and that was my doing. There's no excuse I'd want to offer you.
A phone call would have taken two minutes. Not making it meant you had to guess, and that was unfair to you on a night that was yours. You had put real work into that room, and you should have been able to count on me being there or at least knowing I wasn't.
You are the one who always remembers: birthdays, small details, the things the rest of us let slip. So I know how it must have felt to be forgotten by me, of all people, and I don't take that lightly.
From now on, if my plans change, I'll call you myself. Not a text, and not a message passed along through someone else. I'll pick up the phone and tell you.
I'd love to see your work, whenever and however that suits you, but that's yours to decide, and this apology stands either way.