Most of us would not dream of punching someone. Causing another person pain, especially someone we care about, is the antithesis of our intentions. 

 

Except when it isn't.

 

The other day I knew that if I said something with a certain nuance, the recipient would feel guilty. Because they hadn't, you know, done what I wanted. Then there are the times I reprimanded my kids not from the place of an adoring mother, but because they annoyed me. There are those seemingly random reminders that I plop down like little grenades. Not so dangerous as to rip off an arm, but awful in their own way. 

 

I wonder what would happen if the person named how it felt.

 

"Ouch!"

 

Would I wake up and realize what I am inflicting? 

But more often the person I am aiming at absorbs it as shame, or proof of their own failure. 

 

My phone alerted me of her suffering. We were on the deck on a sunny afternoon and she was overheating. What a blessing that she was able to tell me before more damage was done.

 

Innocence means not to cause harm. At least that is its origin. We have wandered into other domains since the word was first in fashion. 

 

It is my hope to return to that honest beginning. Let me do no harm.