I lied. I actually have an amazing memory. I can remember which old movies we’ve seen, what the name of that great wine we had was, and can usually remember names of people I meet, the faces for sure! And when I’m grumpy, my memory kicks in to high gear and the wrongs that befell me seem to linger for awhile, and even grow. If I’ve been wronged, or if I believe I have, the quest for an apology is all encompassing and even exhausting.
Maybe it’s my asian heritage, but I say sorry very easily. If someone drives their shopping cart into my ankle, flips me the bird in traffic or snatches the last paper at the newsstand out of my very hands, I’m usually the one who says sorry. But I find most people aren’t as quick to say sorry to me. And it drags me down. I replay the incident over and over in my head, looking at possible ways I could have misinterpreted the situation, wondering if I need to deliver another sorry in order to be served my much needed apology.
I crave it, the uncertainty, the forgiveness and the rush of good feelings afterwards – all is not good until both sides have shaken hands and said sorry. They teach you that in kindergarten, don’t they? Two wrongs don’t make a right and it takes two to tango (read:fight)? I’ve just finished reading Eating Crow by Jay Rayner, and while it went a bit off the rails towards the end, I understood the emotional rush the author was talking about. When all is forgiven, your head feel 10 pounds lighter. Right now, I feel like a whale.