Sorry, not sorry
Sometimes we need a place where we are told, “You did nothing wrong.” Can our communities provide that space?
I’m grocery shopping during those precarious hours before Thanksgiving. Carts crowd each aisle. The shelves are spaced just wide enough for two customers to pass, but then the store always manages to put a display in the aisle to muck up the entire system. It’s like putting an auto accident on the highway, just for fun.
So, I maneuver around the wife anxiously calling her partner to make sure she gets the correct brand of stuffing. She takes photos, because there are two kinds “with the blue label” and she wants to get it right. Then I dodge the mom arguing with her two children that they cannot have Sour Patch candies for Thanksgiving dessert. And I just barely side-swipe the woman who looks simply overwhelmed with calculating costs and quality.
All the while, we greet one another with,
