Three Little Words

Not the ones you may be thinking I mean. They could be be two words and not three. I didn’t make my kids say them when they were younger. I wanted them to mean something. We talked about them. We talked about they made others feel. How they made themselves feel.

Why are these words so hard to say to someone you care about but so damn easy to complete strangers? Bump someone’s grocery cart? Let go if a door a moment too soon? Almost bump into a co-worker around a blind corner? These words come out. Easily. Routinely.

F*ck up at home and the person hurt gets blamed. I haven’t played that game in years. And when I say it, I usually mean it and am not being snarky. I hope I have modeled that well for my kids and that they remember the apologies more than the blame.

I fell tonight. Hard. My feet went straight out from under me. I landed hard on bottom and my back smacked hard up against the half wall in the foyer. The floor was wet and had not been dried. Not life threatening (to me but it could have a game changer had it been mom or if I had smacked my head on the wall as hard as I went down or even landed differently).

No apology. Not even a backhanded one. I was blamed. Amazing how hurt and angry I am over that. Instead of a sincere apology, I was told it was my fault.

My head is starting to hurt from the jarring I took. I will take a few OTC sleeping pills and a Vicodin. Or two (they’re small).

I guess I see it like I raised my kids: don’t apologize unless you mean it. I don’t want empty words from family and friends. Say it when, and if, you mean it. I guess it wasn’t meant.

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