Sorry. A Few Times Over.

So, I spent today apologizing. Because I screwed up a few things, and because some other things I still can’t help apologizing for.

That’s not even a proper sentence. Sorry.

It was a mixed bag, is what I’m trying to say. Today was a mixed bag that leaves me now with a blank sheet, a glass of wine and a few thoughts.

The first thing I apologized for? For not being a good friend to a person who defines friendship. Ugh. I’ve been busy and I’ve had things to do and we’ve missed each other and she’s called when I’m getting out of the shower or when I’m walking into some place where I can’t talk.

And, I can’t remember that happening with her when I was in the weeds and couldn’t see the horizon.

So, I apologized. And handed over my last, ice cold Coke. And those who know me, know…wow. But who are we kidding?  It’s not like another Coke is 120 miles away. It’s close. It wasn’t super convenient, but it was close. And she needed it. And a Coke is nothing compared to what she does for me.

But more than the Coke, I needed her to know I was sorry that I haven’t been around. And that I’d still do anything for her within my reach – if it meant handing over a Coke or giving her a doorknob. Because that’s what we do. Well, she does doorknobs. That’s her thing, if we’re getting technical.


The next apology was harder. Much harder. Because it was to a kid. Well, a teen. A new teen. But a teen I’ve known since he was so tiny he’d lounge in one of those vibrating hammocks they make for infants, and crawl on my kitchen floor with playing with a wooden spoon.

A kid I’ve photographed every Halloween with my kid(s) – the number of course depended on the calendar year, since he was the youngest in his family and my oldest matched up with his birth year.

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A kid I joke with. And feed. A kid my kids adore. A kid who tolerates my stupid jokes, even when they involve yard work. A kid who loves my dogs and doesn’t care that my oldest has a super cheesy but cute pet name for him.

I asked him if we were breaking up today. Because, I forgot that his birthday party was today. And in forgetting, I secured tickets to Avengers: EndGame for my crew – at the same time as his kickass birthday party.

And it hit me right after lunch, just a few hours before the party and the movie, and just a couple days after he came by to ask if his homies could hang out.


That stomach sinking thing was never more profound than that moment. I thought I had scored a way kickass surprise for my crew, only to realize I had fouled up their social plans in a big way. And I may have let a kid down who I never want to let down.

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It was such an egregious transgression, my kids’ friends were telling them to revolt. To sass back. To say they wouldn’t go to see the movie, which they were DYING to see.

I just screwed it up. On accident. With the best of intentions. And even with good intentions, I still felt like a jerk. Which was not my intention.

I only get my kids half of the time. And this was one of our less busy days — or so I thought. I just wanted them to see the movie before any kids pulled asshole moves and spoiled it for them. But, that didn’t even work, because one stinker told them about a pivotal death just before we loaded up for the theater.

Dammit. Again.

I’ve told mine not to spoil the movie for anyone else. That’s just not cool. In fact, we’re sworn to secrecy this weekend as Aunt Becky comes to town before seeing the flick.

I just don’t want them to have to apologize. I’ve done enough of it today for all of us.